Blight Night
by Username Requested
Summary: What do you get when you cross a big-mouthed dwarf, an heiress with a pretty pink bow, a mage with a low opinion of everything, and an elf who swings an axe around willy-nilly? The best hope Ferelden has against the Blight. Maker save us all.
1. Enter Rico

**The Family That Schemes Together, Sticks Together**

"I can't keep gambling on you forever precious," the scum look Beraht shot his sister began to boil his blood. "You got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire. But you gotta make it count."

Rica squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, and shot a look at her younger brother, noticing the way his nostrils flared. "Please Beraht. I don't want to do this in front of my brother—"

Beraht laughed as he turned to face him. "Why not? He knows the slope of the land, don't you boy?"

Rico Brosca stepped forward a sneer across his face. "Didn't I tell you not to talk that way to my sister?"

Beraht smirked at him, unflinching "You told me a lot of things," he shrugged. "Not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens." Beraht stepped forward putting his face in front of Rico. "Before me, your sister was just another duster. Now check her out!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her up beside him.

Both Rica and Rico gasped as she was torn from her seat and tried to pull away, but Beraht kept his hand firmly around her bicep. A clear warning to Rico to stand down. "Braids down to here, gold-capped teeth." He said as he used his other hand to trace down her face and neck, stopping dangerously close to her chest. "She can recite elf-poetry and play the string harm. Every man's dream!" And with that he pushed her back, as Rica floundered to keep a steady hold of herself, catching herself at the wall.

Beraht backed up from both of them, as Rico's fingers twitched for a dagger, anything sharp enough to bring across his lecherous throat.

"All she's gotta do is find a lord, squeeze some kid out who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter."

Rica looked down at the ground, before bringing her eyes up to her brother. "Please don't get involved. You know that never goes well." She pleaded, obvious recent events keeping her even more on edge than usual, when she dealt with Beraht.

Rico looked into her eyes and looked down, silently nodding his head, while he fought the rage in his mind. Rico looked back at her. "I don't like to see him treating you that way." He murmured.

Beraht barked in laughter. "I'll treat her however I like. As long as you both eat off my plate." He stalked towards Rico again, looking him straight in the eye and glared, reminding Rico that he sometimes looked eerily like a Deepstalker. An ugly one at that. "You keep your head down and say, 'Aye' to any job I decide is low enough for scum like you." Rico didn't break eye contact, but the voice in the back of his head that sounded like Rica, told him to yield.

"Aye." Rico said, with more bite than he actually meant. To his dissatisfaction, it didn't seem to bother Beraht much as he looked back to Rica.

The crime lord craned his neck, to appear taller than he was, but Rico mused it was so he didn't look that much shorter than Rica. "In return, I can put out coin so you can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Than you both go free. And I get to join the family and be called 'my lord' for the rest of the little prince's life."

Rico couldn't help but laugh at that, ignoring the cast-iron look Rica shot at him. "And her son'll call you uncle and come visit on name-days?" Rico hid his grin as best he could, but he could feel it poke through. "What a joke."

"That's what everyone likes—a casteless with a smart mouth."

Rico shrugged. "We're in high demand."

"I didn't come for the joy of your company. I've been looking at my investments, and this one hasn't born much gold." Beraht began striding into the middle of the room, "I'm giving you another week precious. If you haven't found a patron, then you're back to sweeping streets."

He shot a dark look at Rica. "And I'll be taking all of my assets from you. Personally."

Rica unsure and anxious walked to meet him. "But, I have." She said as she walked in front of the fire pit. "I've met someone, that is I didn't want to promise anything, but he seemed interested."

Beraht looked thoughtful and Rico shot a look at his sister, but this time she couldn't meet his eye.

Rico took a breath and looked at Beraht. "So get off her back and tell me my job for today."

Beraht didn't turn his way, but began speaking, still looking over Rica. "Your buddy Leske's outside. He'll tell you the job for today." He finally turned and focused on Rico. "Don't even think about bungling this job. Your whole family's on loose sand with me today. And I know you don't have anywhere else to turn." Beraht shouldered past Rico, banging his shield a bit painfully into Rico.

As Rico watched him go through the door of their hovel, he resisted the urge to punt something into the back of his head. Like a dagger, or maybe even a dragon.

Rica grabbed his hand from behind, gripping it firmly. "I'm sorry you had to see that." She said, as she leaned into his shoulder.

Rico didn't look away from the door. "I can't stand him! I just want to—want to.." he trailed off.

Rica grabbed both of his hands and forced him to turn to her. "Just be careful about showing him. You've been lucky so far, he thinks it's funny when you and Leske get vulgar."

He gritted his teeth painfully. "Oh, I'll show him vulgar." Rico muttered.

Rica smiled somewhat and cupped his cheek, running her hand over his stubble. "Some of the nobles I've met, they'd soon have your head for speaking your mind." She said it softly, as if it were some morbid joke, but the look in her eyes told him her piece on the matter. "That's why I didn't tell you."

She let go of his face and turned back to the fire pit. "Beraht's been warning me since two others of his girls found patrons at Harrowmont's reception." Rica pinched the bridge of her nose, making her speech nasally. "They've received gifts already. Lord Rousten Elyse a surfacer-silk gown and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient."

Rico grunted. "I just wish we didn't have to kiss up to that cave tick."

His sister shook her head and started to pace. "You know the other options, cleaning the middens, begging, going to the surface. No, until you find a way to save us all from Darkspawn and become a Paragon, we're stuck here. On Beraht's leash for life."

"I just think he expects too much from you, Rica." He said as he ran a hand through his hair. "You already do so much for that bastard."

"But you know how desperate the nobles are for more children. They can barely field enough soldiers to man the walls against the Darkspawn. If I could just give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate, even move you and mother up with us. We'd become noble caste." Rica sighed.

"It's what Beraht's betting on. That's why he's paying for my clothes, my voice lessons. He wants a share of the reward."

Rico pondered that. "Then who's the noble who's interested?" he asked and Rica stared at the wall

"Yes! That is I hope, he's charming and strong and…" she shook her head, as if waking from a daze. "That's enough of that. Beraht gave you a job, best not keep him waiting."

Rico groaned as he dashed to his bedroll and withdrew the rusty iron daggers from underneath the paper stuffed back he used as a pillow. He pecked a kiss on his sister's cheek as he passed her. Ignoring his blind-drunk mother on the table.

"Come home soon, I'll have dinner waiting for you and mother."

Pushing open the thin iron door that separated all of Orzammar from their filthy hovel, Rico grunted. The smells of Dust town getting noticeably dirtier, as he spied another duster passed out and covered in his own vomit against the stone of the Brosca family hovel. The red hues of the magma reaching up and casting shadows on the stone sky, the smell of sulphur and sick smothering Rico's nose. He ignored it, as he always did. Orzammar was never a fair smelling city. Never fair, really, Rico thought to himself.

A familiar face stole Rico's gaze from his stone prison. "About sodding time" Leske smirked, the dwarf leaning against the side of Rico's hovel. "I was just about to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-Row!"

Rico smirked. "Leske, how's it hanging?" He looked good, considering last time he saw him he had gotten drunk and shaved his own eyebrows off.

Leske sighed "No girls, no money and no home to call my own. I was thinking about writing a poem about it, which is hard once you consider that I can't write. Or read. Such a shame, really."

Rico laughed. "Name someone in Dust town who can!"

"But if I could read and write, like some fancy merchant caste poof, then I'd think I'd write 'Oh you really suffer to have no caste, you noble fuckers can shove it up your ass.' Y'know, I actually heard from some noble twat that there was an actual dwarf that told stories for a living on the surface, doesn't even have a beard, I heard!" Leske stopped and sighed. "But I don't know, maybe I could ditch poetry and give pottery a try again. Try to become a Paragon of Vases."

Rico grasped Leske's shoulder and shook him playfully, "If you were a Paragon of anything, it would be by getting rejected by every girl in Orzammer. Create the really desperate for a shag caste."

"Then I guess we'd have to keep playing heavies for Beraht."

He rolled his eyes as they started to walk through Dust town, trying to ignore the cries for a single copper from the beleaguered and lame.

"Give it to me; after the day I've had, I'm ready to bust some heads."

Leske gave him a look. "Search and discipline. Smuggler name Oskias. He's holding out on Beraht and he wants his money or the shipment. Really just wants us to break the guys legs or something like that."

Rico grimaced. "Sounds like fun." Leske raised a hairless eyebrow and said nothing. "Any idea where Oskias is hiding."

"As if it were that easy." Leske joked. "All he told me is 'find him.' Duster's got some family in the Merchant Caste. He's probably laying low near their quarters."

As they reached the commons Rico gestured in front of him. "Age before beauty."

Leske grinned before doing the same. "Virgins before the Sexmeister."

Rico grinned as they followed the path up to the smugglers family estate. Just do a couple jobs here and there for the scumlord, easy right? Yeah, and he was Paragon Branka's rosy farts.

* * *

Rico and Leske break out of Tapster's Tavern, ignoring the startled and disgusted shouts of the dwarves wandering the commons. Rico began to wipe the blood off his daggers with a cloth he took from one of the tables. The battle was short but pitched, to Rico, it looked as if the poor bastard was unskilled, but a sword would catch you dead in the belly no matter the skill level of the wielder.

Leske breathed out. "What a rush, for a minute there I thought he was gonna gut me with that fancy sword o'is but you poppin him in the knee like that. Man! He never saw it coming."

Rico grimaced but continued wiping down Stabby, his iron dagger, the blood staining the cloth dry as he tossed it over his shoulder. He had wanted to give Oskias a quick death, but he hadn't planned on Oskias having a surfacer shield. Made every cut he scored against Oskias with Stabby that much wilder and considerably agonising, considering the extract he had coated Stabby with before the fight.

He thumbed the bag that held the goods. He never enjoyed killing. He like fights and violence well enough, considering that life as casteless was never easy and if you didn't roll with the punches and knock life flat on the back, you'd end up deader than nug on a stick, but ending Oskias' life, Beraht or no Beraht, over two Lyrium nuggets just seemed like a waste to him.

But he wasn't in a position to act on his own. Beraht needed him to go wherever he pointed. Rica needed him to come home safe and alive each night. Even his mother needed him, to keep her sheltered while she gets wasted every night. He had other people depending on him, and he considered himself selfless enough not to act on his own conscience.

"Let's get over to Beraht, before he starts to think we're holding out on him."

Leske laughed one more time, adrenaline slowly seeping out of his body. "Usual place?" Leske asked, as they made their way to the other side of the commons. Rico ignored all the sneers and scowls, even the saliva they spat at their feet. His fists ached to knock that bitch out, but knew that would earn him a one way trip to the Deep Roads.

They were soon forced to stop halfway to the safehouse and peered over the arguing merchant and guard blocking the rest of the marketplace.

Leske leaned into his side. "Think we can sneak past?"

Rico laughed. "Sneak past what? Them? Or that massive fucking cart?"

The cart in question was huge, and obviously carrying goods from the surface, and was effectively blocking them from the closest of Beraht's hiding holes.

"Move this cart!" Demanded the guard, his hand perched on the hilt of his axe. "Or I will have it thrown into the Deep Roads! And you with it!"

The merchant, visibly anxious stuttered. "I'm sorry, my lord, but, but there was no where else to put it. I couldn't even set up shop in my usual place!" he pleaded as he cowered in fear.

"Nonsense!" The guard barked.

"I-it's true! The servants are polishing the floor for the new commander's mission tomorrow!"

The guard backed down from his aggressive stance, but continued to sneer at the merchant. "True enough, it is the Aeducan girl's feast tonight. Very well, but I want it gone by the evening patrol. If any of it is still there, I'll throw it over the Duster's in Dust town!"

The merchant relaxed slightly, but still rushed around the cart, as he tried to push the massive cart alone. "Thank-you, my lord."

Rico laughed slightly, "Wish I could see that."

Leske sighed and turned back around. "Can't go this way, have to go the long way, back through Dust town."

Rico mockingly saluted Leske, and he rolled his eyes. "I just love it when you take charge like that."

"You'll love it even more when I don't throw you into a pool of lava."

"I don't know about that, I kinda like it hot."

* * *

As they walked through the Carta hideaway and into an alcove of a shop on the other side of the commons, a group of dwarves were huddled around a table, with Beraht's voice booming around the room, but he seemed to only be conversing with a Dwarven woman with short hair in somehow even longer braids.

"The king is old. His rule won't hold much longer." He said, twirling a lock of beard hair between his fingers.

The woman's voice was raspy and tough. "Prince Bhelen seems far more sympathetic to our interests than Trian. The Aeducan princess however, is a no-go. She'd raze Dust Town back to the stone, to root us out if she could."

Jarvia, as Rico knew her, was a malicious woman. Having done some jobs under her himself, he knew to associate her as a grade-A psychopath. He'd even most likely associate that kind of behaviour to her, more than some noble caste bitch.

"Bhelen has interests," Beraht grinned. "Interests he knows I can provide. Though it wouldn't hurt to remove the poor princess from the board- We'll finish this later."

He caught Beraht's eye and nodded, descending the few stairs to Beraht. "It's about time you two showed up. What happened with Oskias?"

"We found Oskias, he had side-deal going on with some Lyrium." Rico told him as he fished out the two nuggets.

Beraht grinned. "Some people are slow-learners. He should have known: You don't lie to me. I can smell it." He looked thoughtful for a moment as he stepped closer to Rico. "Don't I make that clear? I feel I make that clear."

Beraht held his hand out, as Rico dumped the small bag into. Carta boss or no, Rico absolutely refused to touch his hand. All the posturing Beraht does, Rico wouldn't be surprised if he shovelled his own shit and claim it smelt like a fresh afternoon breeze. Whatever that was.

Beraht looked unimpressed. "That all? Guess the Duster was smart enough to keep his main stash topside." He looked back at Rico and Leske. "And Oskias himself?"

Rico nodded. "Last I saw, he was coloring the tile on the Tapsters' floor."

"Excellent, excellent. I'll send to- handle the clean-up." He suddenly jabbed a finger towards Rico. "Not you though. I have another job in mind for you."

Rico laughed. "You want me to make another duster cry?"

Beraht sneered at him. "Not if you know what's healthy for you. I want this job to be invisible."

"The warrior caste is holding a Proving today—all the best fighters, the last man standing, you know that sort of thing.

Supposed to be in honour of some Grey Warden who's looking for candidates to drag off to a life of eternal glory. Now it's not often we get every named fighter in Orzammer lined up like that, and I have a certain acquaintances who… take an interest in this sort of thing."

Rico was sceptical, he could see where Beraht was going with this kind of gig. It wasn't often Beraht would throw a job like this out. Or ever really, he was only ever good at bonking some duster over the head with a very heavy rock. Or get up close and personal with Stabby. Rico was beginning to have doubts.

"You're taking bets on the fighters?" he asked hesitantly.

"You get it," Beraht laughed, his booming voice throwing around the room. Jarvia rolled her eyes, and started to size Rico up. Beraht quieted down. "There's a lot of coin in it, when a few fighters get the fever up. Favoured fighters named Mainar, veteran of four darkspawn campaigns."

"My man, Everd's a long shot. Just got back from the Deep Road's offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies drooling. I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight-to-one pay off. You understand me?"

Beraht was dangerously close to Rico's face. Refusing to back down, he grinned, eye-to-eye. "Aye."

He pointed at the door. "Then get out of here, and if Everd loses, well, we'll see what you and your sister can scrape up to compensate me. Here's the passes to the Proving Grounds." And with that Beraht threw the passes on the ground in front of him and turned back around to the other people gathered around the table. Jarvia gave a final look to Rico before grunting and giving him a greasy look, before she turned back around.

Rico glared at the ground, and slowly picked the passes up and walked to the door and opened it. Turning around to give Beraht one last hate filled look, he passed the threshold, with Leske scurrying behind him.

With the delightful interaction of the guards of the Proving grounds, and an equally delightful glob of spit from one of said guards sitting on his boot, getting into the grounds was easier than Rico originally thought.

"What a dazzling attitude. Times really are changing in Orzammer, aren't they Leske. Let us both bathe in the equality."

Looking around, the Proving Hall was the most grandest thing Rico had ever stepped inside in. It thoroughly amazed him, but the sobering realisation that the nicest place he'd ever been in was a job for Beraht, one that the more he thought off, the more he realised that this job had a higher than usual chance of being run through with a sword by actual warriors, somewhat spoiled the experience.

Also, he had spit on his boot. That sucked as well.

Leske stopped immediately, looking at Rico in shock, horror and amazement. He slowly brought his hand up to point at the human man standing in the middle of the hall, talking with a dwarf who seemed to come up to the human's pelvis. "Don't look now," Leske breathed. "But I think that's a Grey Warden."

His hand still pointing at the Grey Warden, even when the Grey Warden looked up to see Leske pointing very blatantly at him, that he excused himself from the Proving's Master and walked over.

The Grey Warden, a very tall and tanned man in armor so bright that Rico could see himself and his face brand in clear detail. His wicked looking sword strapped to his back, and an equally looking, just as shiny dagger on the other side. A pattern of two griffons dancing on his breastplate, though to Rico it looked more like they were canoodling.

"Stone-met, my friend." The Grey Warden's smooth deep voice greeted them. "Or that is what they said in my last visit, to meet the dwarves of Orzammer. Or did that change, you're giving me a particular look."

Rico felt the amazement on his face, as well as see it in the Warden's breastplate. Wow, he's tall, Rico thought. And shiny. Rico shook his head. "Oh, I just wasn't expecting such a pleasant welcome."

The Grey Warden looked thoughtful. "Did you assume the Grey Warden's would not be as pleasant? Allow me to rectify that." The Grey Warden stuck out his hand. "My name is Duncan. I'd say, 'Of the Grey Wardens,' but I suspect you already know that. Pleased to meet you."

Rico thought a moment before sticking his hand out to greet Duncan. "I'm Rico. Of… of nobody."

Rico immediately let go and dropped his hands to his sides. As Duncan slowly brought his back. "Ah… of course. That's what the face-brand means, then. I remember that now."

A surge of anger coursed through his body, as Rico straightened up and glared directly into the Warden's eyes, bravado filling him up so suddenly. "So what? Now you have to stop talking to me?" By the stone he was tall.

Duncan laughed mirthfully and Rico lost his courage almost instantly. "I never turn down the chance to meet someone new. When we visit Orzammer, we tend to remain in the Diamond Quarter. You forget how much of the city you miss."

Rico frowned at him. "Or the parts you're not allowed to see." He murmured.

Duncan was silent for a moment. "Quite." He said in return. An awkward silence filled the air, and Rico cursed. Way to be depressing, Rico. He chided to himself.

"So," he said eventually. "Is it true you're here looking for recruits?"

Duncan perked up at the question, obviously eager to change the uncomfortable atmosphere. "The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spill their blood in battle to fight the darkspawn. It's rare that we find both with the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to the troops." Rico thought of that for a second. "It's a lot to find too, but I hope you also find what you are looking for."

Duncan gave Rico a small smile, before walking off to the other end of the Proving hall. Rico watched him go, pondering his words. 'Ruthless, compassionate, inspiring' that's what Duncan had said. He squared his jaw as he felt another surge of courage flow through him.

"Leske, put your hand down. We have a job to do."

* * *

"We're so totally fucked." Leske said as he began pacing around the room anxiously.

"It's really not that bad."

"Not that bad?! The sodding blighter is stone-cold DRUNK! He can't even hold his own dick without falling over, than fight in the Proving!"

From below them on the ground, Everd, snorted and upchucked something black.

"By the Stone!" Leske lamented. "We're dead. We're so dead."

Rico thought for a moment. "When my mother is like this, we usually just sit her up and place a bowl of boiled nug dung under her nose to wake her up." Rico looked around the room. "We need a pot."

He found a very cylindrical shield. "There!" he pointed. "We can use that as a pot." Rico ran for it and picked it up.

All of a sudden, Everd jumped up, grabbing Leske by the shoulders. "WHO'ER OUUUU!" he demanded. Leske cried out, as Rico fumbled with the shield and threw it towards them both.

Rico saw in slow motion, as the shield spun through the air and slowly slam into Everd's forehead. Knocking him down to the ground like a stone.

They sat in silence for a moment, only interrupted by a sudden knock at the closed door, making both Rico and Leske jump.

"Everd, match up, you ready?" the voice asked.

Rico and Leske looked at each other in horror. And both stood up failing their limps at each other in a panic. Their arms flapping in a poor substitute for speech as the knocking got louder and became more constant.

"Everd, you in there?" the voice persisted.

Rico and Leske, not done freaking out, began pointing at the most certainly dead fighter to each other and then the door.

"Everd, I'm coming in!"

Rico's blood froze, and in his panic he shouted. "DON'T COME IN!"

Rico covered his mouth almost immediately as Leske glared fiery anger at him. Leske quickly used his finger and mimed cutting his neck before pointing it viciously at Rico.

Everything was quiet.

"Alright, just get ready and meet me by the doors. Your match is first up." And almost as if it were an after thought. "And please stop drinking that nug piss. It makes you sound like you're chugging dirt."

Rico and Leske looked at each other. "I think," Rico smirked, a smirk so smug that he felt it reach his jawline. "I have an idea."

Rico clamoured up to the proving guard. "I am Everd. Everd is me. I am ready to fight in Everd's- I mean, my match."

Through the peepholes of the helmet, he saw the Proving guard look at him strangely.

"Alright Everd, first match is yours, you're fighting Mainar."

"Yes." Rico nodded. "I am Everd."

"O-kay, may fortune favour your fight, Everd. Are you ready?"

Rico nodded his head. "Everd is ready."

The guard gave way and he stepped into the Proving grounds. He heard the cheers before he saw the crowd. His heart jumped and hammered in his chest, threatening to leap out of his chest and kill him before the crowd, that would easily stampede him should they rally against him. Or Beraht, whicher got to him first.

"This is a Glory Proving!" A booming voice announced. He looked up to the centre stand and found in the distance the Proving's Master, with Grey Warden Duncan beside him, looking down at him. "Under the watchful eyes of our ancestors and fought, for our honoured guest, the Grey Warden!"

He kind of saw Duncan bow to the crowd. Either that or he was showing off his impression of a dwarf, Rico couldn't decide.

"The Warrior Everd, son of Galten, will fight Officer Mainar, survivor of the battle at Kal-Elerin!"

Mainar strode towards Rico, his steps heavy and precise. His long brown hair and beard done in braids along the side of his face, his chin held high, exactly how a warrior should look.

Well shit.

Mainar bowed to Rico. "You honour me with this fight. May the Stone show the boldest heart through the strongest arm." Mainar waited, and tilted his head at Rico, waiting for a response.

Rico shrugged. "I'm Everd?"

The Proving's Master shot throughout the arena. "First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!"

Mainar drew his sword and readied his shield and fell into a stance as he approached Rico. Rico hurriedly drew Everd's axe and readied Stabby, but soon Mainar went on the offensive.

Mainar lunged with his sword, and Rico almost cried out when he felt it only skim off the side of his armor, readying an attack, Mainar struck out with his shield, slamming into Rico and knocking him back. He readied himself again, but Mainar left nothing to chance, and was soon after him, swiping at him with his sword.

Rico tried to deflect his next lunge with his axe, but Mainar managed to disarm it. The axe flying wildly through the air, Mainar advanced, shield keeping his flimsy iron dagger away from his body.

Maybe I should have drugged Mainar afterall. Rico managed to parry the next attack with his dagger, but soon fell victim to a shield bash. He teetered away from Mainar, reeling from the hit, but refusing to fall. He heard the crowd cheer and boo from the stands, but at that moment, he couldn't care less.

He was losing. Badly. It didn't matter if Mainar beat him, because Beraht was going to kill him, and Rica. He couldn't let that happen. Not to Rica. This is what I get for wanting to fight like the warrior caste.

You're not a warrior. You're a duster. A duster who's had no real experience against a seasoned warrior, who fights with valour and honour.

But that doesn't mean a duster doesn't have a few tricks of his own. He grinned under his helmet. Duster's fight dirty.

He slowed to a stand still and held his dagger out in front of him with his hand and used his free hand to beckon Mainar over to him. For all his ready stances and sword and shield techniques, the stupid blighter forgot to wear a helmet.

Mainar charged, and when he got close enough, sword in front, ready to slash, Rico used his dagger to scrap up dirt from the grounds and flung it into Mainar's eyes. Mainar cried out, as Rico danced behind him, and used his foot to kick Mainar.

Mainar staggered forward but didn't fall, dirt clinging to his eyes, he discarded his shield to visciously rub his face. Rico used the distraction to grab his fallen axe.

"Sodding nug-piss fucker!" Mainar yelled. "Where's your honour!" he cried. Rico charged, dodging the hazardous swings Mainar took in front of him.

Rico parried with his axe and stabbed Stabby in between the hilt and guard and pulled, disarming Mainar, leaving him defenceless. He leaned in close to Mainar's face.

"I'm Everd." He whispered. Rico kicked Mainar in the groin, and grinned as he clutched his dwarven man purse in his hands, as he fell to the floor gasping.

The crowd cheered and Rico raised his hands, savouring his victory over Mainar! He roared when they whooped, windmilled his arm when they jumped, and mooned them when they screamed.

"The winner is Everd!" the Provings Master announced. "A truly memorable fight. A young cadet vanquishes the wily veteran." He nodded to the side, and a dwarven woman in a robe was administered to Mainar's tattered pride. And genitals.

With each fight, he felt himself grow more bolder. Defeating the asshole from last years Proving, earning him even more favour amongst the crowd. The giant axe he used was more of a challenge then Mainar, but after Rico managed to take out his legs from under him, earning him a swifter victory over the former champion. The Silent Sister was easier, especially after he punched her in the tit.

With each battle he felt his feet become lighter, his flurry of weapons disarming and then assaulting. He savoured it, felt his blood run with fire after each win. This was right, it was natural. Like everything up until then was to bring Rico to this exact moment.

For the first time, Orzammer cheered for him. He even forgot that it wasn't his name they cheered.

Then, came the spoiler.

The Proving's Master tried to pacify the rallying crowd. "In a special turn of events! We have a match just for the people of Orzammer! Everd, son of Geralt will face Orzammer's very own Princess Aedu- what is the meaning of this!"

Everd suddenly stumbled into the arena. Gasping and shouting. His forehead bruised, swollen and bloody.

Damn, Rico thought. I had really hoped he had died.'

Rico looked down at the ground briefly. "So close." He muttered.

"Hey!" the real Everd shouted "That's my armor! And what did you do with my shield! Can't sodding find it now!"

The crowd raged and screamed. The Proving's Master was louder still. "How dare you interrupt this sacred-"

"Wait!" Mainar shouted above it all. "I know that man. That's Everd! Then… what imposter did I fight?"

The crowd turned against Rico shouting and slurring. The warm happy feeling of rightness fading quickly.

The Proving's Master pointed at Rico. "Remove your helmet, warrior! I demand to see who you are! Let all who watched you see your face!"

Rico thought of his angle. Continue the lie, or yield. He could hear Rica in his head again. Telling him to give himself in.

He sighed as he removed his helm. "I am of no caste or clan!" he announced, holding his chin up high, hoping it would accentuate the face brand. "But I have defeated you all!"

The crowd screamed again banging and stomping and generally just being a mob, and slowly a group of guards approached him, weapons drawn. Rico backed up, he knew he was being cornered, but might as well make them work for it. Everd started advancing him as well.

"That," Everd hiccuped. "Should show me for pretending to be you-wait…"

Rico looked towards the crowd, looked at Duncan. He saw him on his feet, his hand stroking his beard. Or his mouth. Who could really tell with humans.

"Casteless!" The Proving's Master spat. "You insult the very nature of this Proving!" He banged his fist against the stone parapet. "Guards! Take this… filth away!"

The guards grabbed onto Rico, under his arms, and took Stabby from him. Rico spat at the ground. Anger colouring his vision. "Well fuck you too, you sodding nug-humping… licking…. Stone….. sod it."

And as Rico was carted out like a duster, he couldn't help but think how it would've felt, to leave as a champion.

* * *

He awoke to iron bars and a whispering voice. "Pssst, hey. Rico. Rico you hear me, mate!"

Rico groggily blinked his eyes and sat up. "…Leske?"

"How hard did they sodding hit you? You sound like they collapsed half the Diamond Quarter on you."

"Thanks Leske, always can count on you to give me warm fuzzy feelings."

"If you wanted warm and fuzzy, rent Teli for 5 coppers and an ale. But we're more likely to get stabbed and dumped. Beraht has us now. Bribed the guards and carted us here in his own private cells. They're gonna kill us, man. We fucked up."

Rico grunted. "Well maybe we would've been fine, if you had made sure Everd wouldn't get the fuck out in the arena, and out me in front of all of fucking Orzammer!"

Leske scoffed. "You're blaming me? You kill people all the time, you couldn't make sure a passed out drunken asshole was actually fucking dead?!"

Rico puffed his chest and pouted. "He looked pretty dead from where I was standing."

"Not dead enough apparently."

They settled into uncomfortable silence.

"So," Rico said after a while. "Got any ideas how to get out of here?"

Leske swore. "And do what? Kill Beraht and run the Carta ourselves?"

"Not such a terrible idea."

"It's fucking suicide is what it is. Beraht has people everywhere, Jarvia's here! How do you suppose we overthrow Beraht, because unless you're hiding a fucking dragon in that up-tight ass of yours, we're dead."

"We're going to die anyway, Leske." Rico said, pressing his face up against the stone wall, as he fiddled with his shirt. Rico was surprised Beraht gave them clothes to begin with. He usually took everything from the people he locked up, loincloth and all.

Leske sighed and stepped towards the bars. "I think I may have an idea. I kept a lockpick in the sole of my boot for this occasion, and luckily, they were stupid enough to leave my shoes alone." Rico heard rustling from Leske's cell. "Now if I can just get it out-crap."

"You honestly thought I wouldn't have found that?" Jarvia said from the shadows. "C'mon Leske, we're the ones who taught you everything you know." The dwarven woman sauntered up to the bars, poking her face through Rico's cell, and smiled. "Hey baby." She purred.

Rico laughed. "Didn't think you and honest would fit in the same sentence. I owe you a drink, Leske."

Leske let out a half-hearted 'yay' from his cell. Despite his jab, Jarvia smiled still. "It's been interesting watching you both try to save your skins. Oddly charming really. Kill Beraht and take over the Carta, what twists and turns your mind takes."

Rico looked dead on at Jarvia. "Just what I always wanted; your approval. I can die a happy man now."

Jarvia barked a laugh. "Can't leave a stud die unfulfilled." She backed away, sauntering slowly, and Rico couldn't resist staring at her hips. "You cost Beraht a cute copper, lost a hundred sovereign for Lord Vollney. The whole Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly is calling an official investigation. You single-handedly brought the entire Dwarven Carta to the deshyr's attention. Do you have any idea what you did?!" Her lulling calm began to burst into unbridled rage during her speech.

Rico laughed nervously. "I bet that pissed you off…" he murmured.

Jarvia snarled and lunged at the bars. "You're damn right it pissed me off! If it were up to me, I would personally shove my hand so far up your ass, I'd be doing shadow puppets out of your mouth!"

Despite himself Rico reacted in the only way he knew. "…kinky."

Jarvia's nostrils flared as she let go of his cage and sauntered away. "I'll see you later, champion." She said, sarcasm dripping off the word like tar. She walked off into the shadows again, disappearing immediately.

"Well," Leske drawled. "That's not good."

Caged in a literal stone prison inside of his philosophical stone prison, Rico sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Don't worry. I have a plan."

"A good one I hope."

"You'd be surprised."

Rico began banging on the bars. Soon enough, the guard, Tropa, another casteless like them approached him. "Rico, can you not do that, you're giving me a headache." The dwarf was relatively friendly to Rico, as far as thugs go, but this was a matter of life and death.

Rico tilted his head. "That's funny, that's what first happened to me as well."

A brow furrowed in confusion, as Tropa leaned in close, "What do you mean?" he asked.

Crossing his arms across his chest Rico leaned backwards. "The headache. Broke right into a fever, I was bedsick for days, couldn't get a single ounce of sleep."

Tropa made a face and shook his head. "Just because it happened to you, doesn't mean it will happen to me."

Rico laughed and stood up. "Maybe it won't. But one way to make sure is to put your ear against some iron- try the bars- and listen for this dull ringing."

Tropa scrunched his brow up and put his ear against an iron bar of Rico's cage. "What's it supposed to say?" He asked lamely.

"Give it a moment." And suddenly, Rico brought his arm around the other bars, wrapping his forearm against Tropa's head. Tropa struggled, but couldn't get out of the headlock quick enough for Rico to give a sudden jolt, breaking his neck with a deafening crack. Rico sighed. "Sorry Tropa." He said as he went through his pockets for the key.

"If we're gonna get out of here, we have to kill everyone." Leske said, a sad note in his voice.

"I know."

Rico unlocked the cell door and ran to Leske's, unlocking it quickly and diving towards a box by the wall. At least he got Stabby back.

* * *

The way through the caverns was uneventful. Rico ran into a few enemies here and there, but considering he had defeated the best that the warrior caste had to offer, petty thieves and hired muscle seemed like a cake-walk. He felt his blood warm and sing as he fought and scrapped with other dusters. His arms yearned to slash and slice. He just gave into the song of battle and let it course through his muscles, blood and tingle his skin.

It was kinda orgasmic. In a non-sexual kind of way.

He and Leske came across a door. He nodded at Leske. Leske nodded back and readied his stance.

Rico edged the door open and peeked through. He saw Beraht with two other men.

"I'm cutting the whore free." He heard him say. His blood cooled and turned to ice. Whatever that was. "If that turncoat brother of hers doesn't know his place, I don't need precious Rica, either."

"Rica?" A blonde dwarf perked up. "That the one you got all dolled up in lace? Been wanting to get my hands on that."

The other dwarf was bald, he laughed. "Heh, I know what you mean." He said as he made a crude impression of Rica and started to thrust his pelvis into the air.

Beraht grabbed both of their shoulders. "She's yours if you want her, boys. And let me tell you… it tastes as good as it looks." They began to laugh, the glee and savageness in the sound stabbed Rico like tiny knives.

"Rico." Leske hissed. "Rico!" he said again louder. It took a moment for Rico to notice he had approached the scumbag, and his little ugly nug-humping pricks.

Beraht drew his weapon. "What the sod is that thing doing out of it's cage." The other dwarves startled and drew their knives. "Let's teach this little duster a lesson."

The bald and blonde dwarf charged, daggers raised, aiming for his face. He ducked down and rolled, using his axe to slice the back of the blonde dwarf's knee open.

He cried out as he collapsed onto the other knee. The bald dwarf blanched and raised his dagger again, aiming for Rico, but he side stepped out of the way. The bald dwarf was clumsy and graceless and too slow to stop himself from plunging the knife meant for Rico into the blonde dwarf's chest.

The bald dwarf stuttered. "No!" he cried as the blonde dwarf fell over, convulsing and spitting out blood. The bald one stumbled backwards, dropping the knife, and giving Rico the perfect opportunity to bring the axe into the front of his face. The bald one collapsed, axe still buried into his skull, and admittedly took Rico some time to pull out.

Seeing it refused to budge, Rico left it where it was and walked over to the blonde dwarf, still convulsing on the ground. Rico stood over him and quickly brought his foot down onto his skull. The crunch of broken cartilage, gave Rico a clear indication that maybe this one was down for the count.

Rico turnt to look at Beraht, who was scrapping with Leske. Beraht managed to bash Leske in the gut, doubling him over. Beraht brought his sword above his head, angling it above Leske's neck, but brought it down in a pained yelp. Letting go of his sword Beraht looked at his wrist, to see a rusty iron dagger embedded into his wrist, and poking through the other side. Beraht cried out as he pulled the dagger out of him and threw it at the ground, and just as quickly bashed Leske over the head, knocking him down.

He turned to face Rico. "You _fucking_ brat!" he spat, and charged towards Rico. Readying his axe, he brought it down upon Beraht, only for it to be deflected by his shield. A quick shield bash aimed for Rico, he rolled again out of the way, and stood up, just in time to dodge another hit with the shield.

" _WHY. WON'T. YOU. JUST. LIE. DOWN. AND. DIE!_ " Beraht rage, swinging his shield, each swing getting closer and closer.

Finally Rico's luck ran out. A hit brought Rico to the ground, dazing him. That wasn't as strong as the others could have been. Beraht standing over him. Face red, sweating profusely and his dark hair and beard scraggly and falling out in patches. He dropped his shield and straddled Rico, putting his large clammy hands over Rico's throat.

Rico gasped as Beraht squeezed. The older dwarf began to laugh maniacally. "….dieeeeee." he whispered, and wheezed. His hands loosing grip, Beraht fell to the side coughing and gasping for air.

Rico sat up, gulping air greedily, before getting on his knees and standing up. Walking over to Beraht, he used his foot to turn him over on his back. His eyes red, blood spewing from his nose and mouth and eyelids.

Beraht opened his mouth, and barely any sound came out. "What…. Did… you." He couldn't finish as he began to choke.

Rico smiled. "You didn't think I wouldn't coat Stabby in some of that deathroot extract I found layin' about, did you?" Beraht's eyes widened. Either because he heard Rico, or he lost all muscle control, Rico couldn't tell. "See you later, Beraht."

Rico picked up Beraht's shield and stood over him again. Strapping his arm into the shield, he then used it to quickly hack into Beraht's neck.

That's how Leske found Rico. Sitting in a pile of blood and gore gently bringing a red soaked shield amongst the floor.

Leske grabbed Rico's shoulder. "We gotta go Rico!" he said as he dragged Rico away from the remains of the Carta boss, Beraht.

* * *

"Ahhhhh!" Leske breathed. "Fresh air. I never thought I'd never see another free day."

Rico and Leske were then suddenly swarmed by guards.

Leske sighed. "Sod it."

Mainar pointed. "There they are! Seize the fugitives!" he shouted.

Slowly the Proving's Master approached, his own pompous ceremonial sword drawn. "Drop your weapons and walk down, slowly. If you resist, we will use force." He ordered.

Rico glared but soon moved his gaze to the very shiny human, sauntering to the crowd of guards.

"Duncan." Rico breathed. He steeled himself and straightened his posture. "If this is your idea of a heroic rescue, you're too late."

Duncan laughed, but the Proving's Master bristled. "You do not speak, until the Shapers have judged you."

"One moment, my friend," Duncan interrupted, bringing the heavy gaze of the Proving's Master upon him. "Did you not suggest that this Beraht might have arranged their convenient escape?"

The Proving's Master snorted. "Regardless, the penalty for impersonating a higher caste is death."

Duncan crossed his arms and gave out a low hum. "If this Beraht is as influential as you say, perhaps he also masterminded this Everd's impersonation."

Rico laughed. "Last I saw Beraht, he was suffering from a bad case of dead."

The Proving's Master stance relaxed, and his squinted his eyes, as if he were seeing Rico for the first time. "He's dead? Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They-"

Leske cut in front of him, stepping forward. "Beraht would've butchered us if we hadn't killed him first!"

Duncan stepped forward standing in front of Rico. Rico once again found himself staring up at Duncan. But something had changed, there was a glint in his eyes, one that had not been there last they spoke. Rico didn't know if he found that absolutely thrilling, or terrifying.

"Your friend has once again shown his courage and skill." He said, giving Rico a look. "The Grey Wardens travel far and wide to find people who are ruthless against their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their soldiers. I believe this dwarf, casteless as he may be, is exactly what we Grey Wardens, look for in ourselves."

The Provings Master sputtered, the guards looked around anxiously and backed off a few steps, even Mairan, prude that he seems, took the offer surprisingly.

"Him!" Mainar shouted incredulously.

Rico laughed out loud. More like barked, like a dog. Whatever that is. "You want me, in the Grey Wardens?"

Duncan held out his hand. "Let me make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you to join our order."

"This man," the Proving's Master wheezed, face red with anger. "Is a criminal. You cannot do this!"

Duncan sighed. "I can, and I am. It would mean leaving Orzammer and travelling the surface lands to battle the darkspawn taint wherever we can find it, so we can strike a decisive blow against the Archdemon and the Blight."

Rico shook his head and laughed. "Sodding yes, let's get out of here."

Duncan raised his hands in front of the legion of guards. "Then in front of these witnesses, I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that you are most welcome."

"This, this is most irregular. The warrior families will be very upset-"

"Tell the warrior families to suck it." Rico taunted as he sauntered past the Proving's Master to Duncan's side. "I'm a Grey Warden now."

Leske laughed and went up to Rico. "A warden? You lucky piece of Bronto shit. And here I knew you when you were stealing bread."

Rico laughed. And looked out towards Orzammer. He sighed. What am I going to tell Rica?

"Before…" he started, looking up at Duncan. "Before we go, can I say goodbye to my sister?" he asked Duncan.

Duncan sighed. "We do have a schedule to keep, but I will not deny you this."

Rico smiled. "Thank-you."

"By the Stone." The Proving's Master sighed. "I want this thing. Out of Orzammer by Princess Aeducan's feast. If I see either you or him after that, we will drive you out of Orzammer." He grunted before striding off, taking his contingent with him. Mainar shot him a dirty look before leaving as well.

"Well," Rico said, watching the dwarves walk away in a huff. "Shall I show you Dust Town, Grey Warden?"

"You're-you're leaving?" Rica looked distraught, her red hair perfectly done was quickly becoming tangled as she pulled her hands through it.

Rico laughed. "Not forever, just until we defeat the Archdemon in the south." Rico brought his hand up to cup Rica's face. "I'm a Brosca, you're my family. I would never abandon you. Not like father."

Rica hiccuped, tears running freely down her face. "I love you, Rico. Never forget that." She sobbed.

Rico blinked away tears. He didn't think leaving would be this hard. He gulped. "I love you too."

There was a knock at the door. He turned quickly to look. Duncan had waited outside, and gave Rico very limited time to say goodbye.

Rico stood up and grinned at his older sister. "Just you watch me, Rica! I'll become a hero up there. I'll buy land, become a surfacer Paragon. After I defeat the Blight, things will be better." He leaned down and kissed Rica's cheek. "I'll see you then." He promised and he dashed for the door.

Rica watched him leave, not bothering to wipe her tears as her little brother disappeared from her altogether.

"Come home soon." She whispered.

* * *

 **Part 1 of the 4 part prologue. Introducing Rico Brosca, the Dwarven Rogue, stout of body, stout of heart and the full-blown sex appeal of a dolphin (which is a good thing).**

 **Part 2 should be up soon. Note: this is not contractually binding, so if it isn't don't bunch up your panties and throw them at me. See you all next time.**


	2. Enter Serena

**Of Monsters and Men**

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

Serena squinted at the target.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

Almost got it, she thought.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

That's pretty good.

Serena smiled brightly and turned on her heel, hugging her bow to her chest as she looked at Ser Gilmore expectedly. "What do you think, cool right?" she asked

Ser Gilmore stared at the arrows protruding from the target. "But, my lady, you didn't get a single bullseye."

Serena laughed out loud. "I wasn't aiming for that, look I signed my name. 'SC', Serena Cousland. It's neat right?"

Ser Gilmore looked from Serena, a bit bubbly than usual this morning and looked back at the target, arrows poking out in a rather crude form of an S and C. "Ehhhh?"

Serena pouted. "I mean it helps if you squint." She added and watched as Ser Gilmore squinted.

"Oh," he said as he nodded and clapped his hand to his thigh. "I totally see it now." He smiled and looked back at the young noble's daughter.

"Don't you ever doubt my art again, Ser Gilmore." She warned, hands on her hips.

"My lady!" and elven girl called, as she jogged up to the young woman. "Your father has requested to see you in the great hall at once."

Serena smiled at her. "Thank-you Aliwei. I'll leave at once." She said and gently curtsied to the elven maid. She gave Ser Gilmore a glare. "Don't you dare remove my masterpiece, I want a chance to show mother." She said, pointing at both of her eyes and then at Gilmore, before hurrying off to the hall.

Aliwei glance at the target. "What is that supposed to be?" she asked.

Ser Gilmore shrugged and shook his head. "I honestly have no idea."

Serena walked briskly, slowing down when people would see her and waving at them regally the way she was taught. "Hello to you," she laughed. As soon as they weren't looking her face slacked incredibly and she went back to a light jog.

She had run into a few servants and visiting dignitaries, giving them all a polite wave and a laugh. The door was in sight, when once again she was stopped from almost running into the hall.

"Sweet maker, how many people are in this castle?" she asked herself. Stopping by the door she closed her eyes. "Okay Serena, you're going to go in there and dazzle father's pants off. Once you make your case on why you should be going with him and Fergus to Ostagar, he literally cannot make you stay. It's impossible to counter your upcoming argument. The bards will sing of this legendary debate for all time, how could he detest that?" She opened her eyes and quickly looked around, freezing when she caught sight of a young servant boy, holding a handful of towels, just staring at her.

She straightened her posture and turned her entire body to him. "You saw nothing." She told him. The young boy only nodded. Serena coughed uncomfortably. "Good lad."

"At least the smell will be the same." Serena heard her father laugh. As soon as Serena found her father, she also found Arl Howe. 'Great.' She thought to herself. 'Hook nose is back'. "Father," she smiled as she found her way by his side. "And Arl Howe. Greetings my lords." she almost gritted.

Bryce Cousland was an imposing man, great barrelled chest covered by fine light cotton for the warm Highever sea breezes, taller than the Arl Howe by a few inches, hair that had recently lost its colour still specked with auburn strands and blue eyes as bright as the seas of Highever. Looking at Bryce Cousland, he would have made a better king than lord.

And where Bryce Cousland was a lion, Rendon Howe was a snake. His head covered in grey, his nose accentuating his sharp cheekbones and thin lips. Serena never could stand the man, and she had often wondered why whilst growing up. Her father was good friends with him since before she was born, and he was her father's vassel. It wasn't until she was older that she realised that his snark was poison.

"I'm sorry pup," his gentle voice carried over Serena, as he kissed the top of his daughter's head. "I didn't see you there. Howe, you remember my daughter?"

Arl Howe smiled tersely, as expected when addressing his lord's daughter. Didn't mean he had to like it. "I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear."

Serena smiled back, knowing that it was just as fake as the Arl's. Though he could probably tell us as well. "And you, Arl Howe." She responded.

"My son Thomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time." Serena fought off the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, she lamented. It's this old bit again.

Choosing to feign ignorance than to give the Arl a response. "To what end?" she asked, head cocked to the side.

"To what end?" The Arl repeated and laughed. "She's so glib too. She's just like her mother when she talks like that."

Bryce laughed with him briefly, as he looked down at his daughter by his side, clad in a leather jerkin with a bow on her back. "See what I contend with, Howe? There is no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart." Serena swelled with pride at that. With Howe it was unwarranted and slightly creepy, but with her father it was different. It made her proud to make him proud.

Puffing up her chest slightly, she began to listen with renewed interest.

"Quite talented, I'm sure. One to watch."

Serena inwardly scoffed. Okay creeper, she thought.

Bryce shook his head and turned to her. "At any rate pup, I've summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

Serena breathed in. Now's your chance, girl. She encouraged herself. "Okay, good idea, but how would you like to hear a better one?" she asked, her sweet smile (one that she knows got her out of trouble with her father multiple times) coming onto her face

Bryce sighed deeply. "Pup-" he began.

Serena stopped him almost immediately "I know we've talked about it before-"

"At length."

"Don't interrupt, hear me out. I could go with you and Fergus into battle."

"No."

"Don't interrupt, that's rude. I could use my amazing skillset, that you instilled in me at an early age."

"And I'm starting to regret that now."

Serena gasped offended. "Uncalled for."

Bryce pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war."

Serena down at her feet, she could almost see the time she spent practising her points with Spike being mauled by said Mabari. "Pup, look at me." He brought his thumb to her chin and softly brought it up. "She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."

"But… I have mad bow skills." She offered lamely.

"And what fear you would instil in the darkspawn, at the sight of your 'mad' pink bow." Arl Howe said, positively preening. She looked up at him briefly to frown at him.

Bryce grabbed onto Serena's shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. "Only a token force is remaining here, but you must keep the peace. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

Serena looked into her father's blue eyes much like her own and wondered what he actually saw in her. A fierce woman, in her own right, raging war against the Orlesians or darkspawn, or his little girl in the frilly dresses. She herself didn't know what she preferred.

"I'll do what you think is best, father." She gave in and felt herself cringe. The one thing she had promised not to do, in the face of her father. But it seemed to please Bryce as he gave her a smile, one that he was well known and loved for.

"Good, but enough of such talk. Pup, I have someone I want you to meet." Bryce turned around to a guard posted beside one of the side doors. "Please… show Duncan in."

The guard thumped his chest with both arms and bowed before leaving out the door.

It wasn't long before a man in Silverite armour walked into the great hall, a small lumbering dwarf behind him, looking at the walls and tapestries in fascination.

She studied the dwarf briefly, it had been so long since she had visited Orzammer, when her father had taken both her and Fergus with him on a dignitary visit. She remembered being overwhelmed surrounded by people who looked a little like her but wasn't. She found herself wondering if he maybe felt the same as she did then, given the look he was giving everything else.

She turned her attention to the other man though. He looked Rivaini, tanned skin, dark hair. What really set him apart however was his armour, gleaming silver with a pair of griffons on the breastplate. His weapons looked exotic as well, his sword was black with a slight icy blue hue, and a dagger made from even more Silverite.

Serena raised her eyebrows. This guy's got a thing for Silverite, then.

The human warden, Duncan she assumed, was first to speak. "Teyrn Cousland," he greeted. "It is an honour to be a guest within your hall." The dwarf beside him startled slightly before murmuring a quiet 'same.'

By the look of Arl Howe, he was startled as well as the dwarf. "Your lordship," he began. "You didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

The Teyrn gave the Arl an odd look. "Duncan, and his recruit arrive just recently, unannounced." He cocked his head to the side. "Is there a problem."

Arl Howe's eyes widened, before he regained his compusre. Odd, Serena thought. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am… at a disadvantage."

She looked back to her father, and whatever was there earlier was gone. "We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true." Although Bryce decided not to be weary, that didn't mean Serena had to. "Pup, brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

Serena smiled at the Grey Wardens, excitement bubbling in her stomach. "They're an order of great warriors."

Bryce nodded in agreement. "They are the heroes of legend, who ended the blight and saved us all."

If Duncan and his dwarven recruit were uncomfortable with the praise, they didn't show it. If anything, Serena noted, the dwarf seemed to slightly bask in it.

"Duncan is looking for recruits." Bryce said and Serena shot her head up at him, a light smile on her face. "That is, before joining us at Ostagar. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Serena nodded her head at that. The lucky dog.

Duncan took a tentative step forward. "If I may be so bold, I would suggest your daughter is also an excellent candidate."

Serena shot Duncan a surprised look, but if he noticed, she didn't know, Duncan was to busy in his own stare down with her father. Bryce decided then to step in front of Serena, in an attempt to shield his only daughter from the Grey Warden's stare.

"Honour though that may be, this is my daughter, my only daughter, we're talking about."

Serena fanned her face slightly a grin spreading across her face, "Oh, little ole me isn't anything to fuss over. Would you really recruit me, Duncan?"

Duncan nodded. "Of course, you are young, skilled and eager for battle. Or so I hear."

Serena jokingly waved him off. "Oh, please stop," she paused. "Or continue, I really don't mind."

Bryce sighed. "You do not need your ego to be inflated anymore than it already is." He bemoaned.

But that only made Serena click her tongue at him. "There's nothing wrong with a little validation here and there, father. Especially when it's true." She sighed. Her father was giving her that look and she knew she had to start dialling it back. "But worry not, father dearest, I've no interest in becoming a Grey Warden."

Bryce smiled at her, and Serena swore she heard a small sigh of relief. "Do you hear that, Duncan? My daughter is not interested. So, unless you intend to invoke the right of conscription…?"

That made Serena pause. After only a bit of fun, would Duncan truly consider conscripting her? She narrowed her eyes, she didn't think she liked the idea of that. Being forced into joining due to a joke.

Duncan however shook his head and chuckled. "Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I have no intention of forcing the issue."

Bryce relaxed from his aggressive stance and stood by Duncan's side, opposite the dwarf, who hadn't seemed at all that interested in the conversation.

"Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Don't strain my abilities or anything." She sighed, still bitter about the direction her earlier conversation took.

Though it seemed her father was in the same mood. "And don't strain my patience."

She flinched slightly. "Geeez, okay." She backed down immediately. Darkspawn or no, that really wasn't a fight she was coming back from.

"In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

The young girl wondered that for a moment. "But I'm not done talking to you, yet."

Bryce sighed at his daughter, "We'll talk before I leave tomorrow. But for now, due to the delay of the Arl's men," Serena shot a look at Arl Howe, before returning her gaze to her father. "We must discuss the battle plans to the south. Be a good lass and do what I've asked. We'll talk soon." He promised.

The young girl sighed but nodded. She silently bowed to her father's guests before going the way she came. She heard them begin a new conversation behind her, but for now, she just wanted to shoot something.

* * *

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

Headshot, headshot, headshot, crotchshot.

The young girl sighed loudly. Looking over at the group of guards training, she could tell they could hear her, but had chosen to leave her alone, either for her sake, or theirs.

Which was too bad, because she'd been trying to get their attention for the last 20 minutes. Couldn't they see that she needed consoling? A shoulder to cry on? A nice broad, muscled shoulder?

One last ditch effort. "Oh woe is me." She cried dramatically. One looked over, but as soon as she caught him staring, he whipped his head back around to the training exercise. "Oh for Maker's sake!"

"Need some comforting there, darling?" A rough voice said behind her.

Serena grinned to herself and closed her eyes as her hand fluttered to her forehead and turned on the ball of her feet. "Oh, thank you, kind -dwarf?" she asked surprised. Serena had to admit, not exactly what she was expecting.

The dwarf from the Great Hall, the Grey Warden, she had to remind herself, had managed to sneak up on her.

"Thanks blondie, for remembering my name and everything." He drawled.

The girl sighed and perched her hand on her hip. "Well, you haven't exactly told me your name, ser dwarf."

The dwarf bared his sharp incisors in a toothy grin. "Coz you never asked." He suddenly gasped. "What kind of hosts does that make the Koslun's?"

Serena's face scrunched into confusion. "Don't you mean the Cousland's?" she asked him.

The dwarven Grey Warden looked slightly confused. "What did I say?" He shook his head. "Okay, so we're both bad people. Why don't we start again?"

"You have a deal. I'm Serena, it's a pleasure to meet you…?"

The dwarf grinned again. "Rico." He introduced. Serena nodded and held out her hand for him to kiss.

"Such a pleasure, Rico." She drawled. She waited for him to take her hand, and when he did, he shook it vigorously in a handshake, pulling her of her feet a few steps towards him. "Sweet Andraste!" she said in surprise.

Letting go, she cradled her hand to her chest, but whether Rico thought he mistook the intention, he didn't show it.

"So," he said looking at the targets. "This you?"

"Yes." Serena confirmed, admiring her handiwork. "I am a master archer, if I do say so myself."

"Crotchshot," he guffawed. "Nice one."

"I know right." She looked down at Rico and waved him over to a nearby bench. "Seat?" she offered. Serena didn't wait for him but made her way there herself first. "So, tell me Rico, when were you recruited?" she asked as he took the seat next to her.

Rico looked thoughtful, "About 2 weeks ago." He said, while rubbing the mark on his forehead, as if massaging his brain.

Serena must have looked questioning, because he went into detail. "I'm from Orzammer, casteless," he said as if that explained everything. But truthfully, to Serena it kinda didn't. "Duncan recruited me after I got into trouble with the law. Now I'm on my way to Ostagar with Duncan. We're trying to make as little stops as possible, but Duncan is still looking for more recruits. He reckons the Blight will take more than we have."

"Just how big is the Grey Warden ranks in Ostagar?" she asked, curious to the man-power the king truly had at his disposal.

But Rico had merely shrugged. "Don't know. Duncan's the only Grey Warden I've met."

Serena sighed. That was unhelpful. She shook her head and looked at Rico in greater detail. "Don't take this the wrong way," she said. "But I kind of thought all dwarves had beards."

Serena had been talking to Rico for an hour before Ser Gilmore approached them. He nodded to Rico, eyes widening slightly at the dwarf. "Pardon my intrusion, my lady, but your mother has sent me to collect you."

"Oh," Serena sighed. "I guess I have lost track of time. I beg your apologies, Rico. But I have duties I must attend to. Perhaps we can speak again later? I would savour the chance to spar against an Orzammer dwarf."

Rico shrugged and stood up. "You can bet on it." He promised. "I should prolly' find Duncan anywho, that man has a tendency to just disappear…" he muttered while he walked away. Serena watched him shuffle off with amusement. Dwarves walk funny, she concluded.

Turning back to face Ser Gilmore, Serena smiled at the ginger knight. "Now, where were we Ser Gilmore?"

Ser Gilmore shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I'm afraid your hound has the kitchens in uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "He knows better than to hurt anyone, and Nan is probably just blowing off some steam."

Ser Gilmore smiled lightly at her. "Your mother disagrees. She insists you collect the dog, and quickly."

Serena stepped in stride with Ser Gilmore, as they made their way to the kitchens. "You know these mabari hounds. He'll listen to his mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

She laughed out loud, imagining her little baby attacking anyone. "My little cutie knows better than to hurt anyone." She said, slapping the knight's shoulder.

The young knight grimaced and said nothing for a while, only the sound of the cobblestone underfoot as they made their way through the courtyard. The rush and clutter of servants and soldiers as they prepared for tomorrows march.

Finally, Ser Gilmore spoke. "I'm not willing to test that. He is a baby no longer, and he is quite big."

Serena laughed again. "More like massive. Nan must stop sneaking him food."

"Nan insists that you only keep him around to confound her."

"That's just a side benefit."

The knight laughed with mirth. "Though you are lucky to have your own mabari war hound. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say. Of course, they're easily bored."

She paused for a moment, her current situation bringing her back to her sad reality. "I as well."

"Forgive me, my lady," Ser Gilmore began, Serena looked at him from the corner of her eyes. "But is it true that there are Grey Wardens in the castle?"

"Yes, it is, the dwarf I was speaking to was a Grey Warden recruit, Duncan had brought with him from Orzammer." She said.

Ser Gilmore became even more antsy, she could see him trying to speak, but his eyes didn't meet her face. "Is it also true, that they've been asking about me?" he asked, voice small but did not betray the hope she could sense in his words.

Serena had to smile at that. Big handsome lug of a man with the self-confidence of a scullery maid. "He wants to test you for recruitment." she confirmed and pursed her lips into a small smile.

Ser Gilmore barked a loud laugh, excitement bubbling in the wide grin across his face. "Really?" he almost shouted. "Can you imagine, me, a Grey Warden?"

Serena nodded, his grin infecting her own. "I suppose I could, the Ginger Warden!" she exclaimed. Ser Gilmore's cheeks coloured. "But what do you know of the Grey Wardens, Ser Gilmore?"

His expression sobered a bit. "I only know that once you become a Grey Warden, your old life is over. There's no going back."

"You would leave your life behind?" Serena asked.

Ser Gilmore sighed. "I don't know. Maybe, I mean, don't misunderstand. I'm appreciative for the opportunity your father has given me, and I know I can never repay him. But this has been a dream of mine, for a very long time." He breathed.

Serena smiled sadly and patted his shoulder. "Worry not, Ser Gilmore." She said. "You would do well within the Grey Wardens, you are a very skilled young man."

Ser Gilmore's cheeks coloured again. "Thank you, my lady, but-" he broke off. Serena looked at him curiously.

"What?" she questioned.

"But, what if the Grey Warden tries to recruit you? Have you thought about it?"

That is curious, she wondered. "Why would he recruit me?" she asked. Sure, she had teased Duncan earlier, but she only assumed it was the Grey Warden's attempt at flattery.

Ser Gilmore laughed at that. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but you are no ordinary woman. You are strong, skilled, and easily the equal of any man, on and off the field of battle."

Heat flushing to her face, she dropped her gaze from Ser Gilmore.

"The Grey Wardens would be fools to overlook you."

Feeling her cheeks cool a bit, she looked back up at Ser Gilmore. "Thank-you, Ser Gilmore, but it matters not. He had assured my father he wouldn't recruit me."

"He could change his mind. Grey Wardens are notorious for doing whatever is necessary to fight the darkspawn. I've read in stories, that Grey Wardens used to burn entire villages to keep them out of darkspawn hands."

An eyebrow arched, as she felt her smile turn into a frown. "So they'll kill people to protect them." She said, slightly unimpressed. With the grandiose image she had built up in her head, fading slightly, she once again unsure how to feel about Duncan.

Ser Gilmore shook his head. "If they have to." He reasoned. "A few villages is a small price to pay to save world."

Serena thought about that, before looking back to the side of the castle the kitchens were situated. "Doesn't matter," she breathed. "I wouldn't want to become a Grey Warden, anyway."

Ser Gilmore's pace slowed as they came towards the kitchens. "I suppose you have many other options. Me, I would give anything to be recruited."

She didn't respond, knew that even if it wasn't what he wanted, it was out of her hands now. Loud noises and crashes came from behind the door. And a voice the sound of an alarm bell, echoing around.

"Is that yelling?" Serena asked as they approached the kitchens.

Ser Gilmore laughed, stopping just short of the door. "Must be Nan," he said. "When she's unhappy she makes sure everyone knows it."

Walking into the kitchens, Serena realised that Ser Gilmore was right. It was chaotic. The kitchens were stacked high with bags of potatoes, empty dishes and cook pots scattered around the sizable castle kitchens. Two elven servants were huddled together flinching away from the biting words of the elderly woman pacing around, chucking spoons and forks around the castle, all the while swearing like a drunken pirate.

Good old nan, Serena thought, barely dodging a flying tea spoon. Nan saw her immediately, her white hair frazzled and poking out of the bun, her apron hanging on threads as she used her fingers to pull at the strings, and her ordinary dress covered in flour and gravy.

"You!" she pointed at Serena almost immediately, the bony finger waggling like it was possessed. "Your bloody mongrel! Keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

Her hand going to her heart in dramatic offense. "He's not a mongrel! He's a pureblood mabari!"

"He's a blightwolf, is what he is! How am I supposed to work like this?"

One of the elven servants approached Nan. "Oh dear… mistress, calm down, please."

Nan threw her hands into the air. "That's it! I quit! Inform the Teyrna, I'll go cook in some fancy estate in the bannorn, maybe I'll be appreciated there." Serena rolled her eyes, she assumed that's where she acquired her love for dramatic flair.

Ser Gilmore held his hands in front of him. "Nan, please, we'll get the dog. Calm down."

Nan looked at him, almost seething, "Then get him gone. I have a castle full of hungry soldiers, and if I can't get into my larder, then nobody's going to the war!" she warned. "You two, out of the way!" she shooed the elves away from the door.

Serena turned back to Ser Gilmore. "My Spikey-poo is waiting." She grinned.

* * *

After a gripping battle with giant rats, and an emotional bedside story from Nan, Serena and Spike headed out to her family's quarters. Ser Gilmore had excused himself earlier, making a comment about a bad adventure story or other.

The sun setting, the orange light touching the cool grey stone of the castle walls, fresh sea breezes filtering through the stone and touching the back of her neck.

Serena looked down at Spike. The mabari still chomping on the pork bits Nan had rewarded her brave hero. "You get more attention than I do." She muttered to the hound. Spike only wagged his tail and slurped down the rest of his just reward.

Walking up the steep cobblestone, Serena spotted her mother, with Lady Landra, her son and an elven girl, she had not seen before. Approaching them curiously, she could hear mother regaling Landra with their father's latest tale from his trip to Orlais.

"… The marquis who gave it to him was drunk, I understand, and mistook Bryce for the king." Her mother laughed, her lilting voice gentle.

Upon her arrival, the group turned to greet her, easy smiles and squinted eyes. Even a quick run down from Lady Landra's son, Dairren. "Hello all." She greeted cheerfully, almost to conscious that her legs and boots were covered in rat's blood.

Her mother eyed her warily. Nineteen years, and she still couldn't manage to hide anything successfully from her. Eleanor Cousland was a cautious woman and had detested the combat training Serena had initially begun. But soon, found herself as her daughter's archery trainer, teaching her daughter the skills she learned from her father on his warship with her brothers. As well as some extra skills during the war.

Serena had grown up being told how much she looked like her mother at her age. Long golden hair, tall and slim frame and an identical beautiful face. From a young age Serena had aspired to also be every bit the battle maiden her mother is. The Seawolf, the Orlesians had called her during the war.

"Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?" her mother asked, eying Spike and the bloody mess on Serena's boots.

Serena smiled sweetly at her mother. "Nan's head exploded, and Spike ate the kitchen staff." She joked.

Her mother however did not look as amused. "Well, at least one of us will have a decent dinner." She said looking down at Spike. Spike barked and wagged his tail happily.

Her mother continued. "Perhaps your hound left something I can feed my guests. Darling, do you remember Lady Landra? Bann Loren's wife?"

The Lady Landra smiled kindly "I think we last met at your mother's spring salon." She greeted. Memories of Serena's last meeting with the lady was certainly interesting. 'My son, Dairren, had the cutest butt cheeks of any baby. I don't recall seeing them lately, but I'm willing to bet they're still just as cute.' That was a rowdy party.

Smiling at Lady Landra, and throwing a quick wink at Dairren, who blushed just as red as his hair. "Of course. It is good to see you again, my lady." She greeted.

Lady Landra laughed. "You're too kind dear girl. Didn't I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?"

The lady's son, chose this moment to intervene. Holding his hand behind his mothers back, trying to push her away from both the Teyrna and her daughter. "And made a very poor case for it, I might add." Refusing to be rushed, the Lady Landra didn't budge. The look in Dairren's eye was hilarious though.

Smacking her son's chest lightly, she laughed again. "You remember my son, Dairren?" she introduced to her and leaned in, a faint smell of wine on her breath. "He's not married yet, either." She whispered.

Dairren groaned out loud. "Don't listen to her." He urged backing away from his mother and moving closer to Serena. "It's good to see you again, my lady. You're looking as beautiful as ever."

She couldn't help the grin on her face. Now this was a game she enjoyed. "You're looking handsome, yourself." She said, standing on her toes she leaned into him slightly. "I saw you in the last months tourney, you did well." She complimented him, delighting that his blush deepened.

"You're too kind, my lady." He said, wringing his hands nervously by his side. "But your brother beat me quite handily. I was no match for him."

Bringing her hand up to his bicep she squeezed. Behind her she could hear her mother sigh. "I'm sure by the next tourney, you'll only get stronger. You can beat him, yet." She conferred. Which was an utter lie, nobody was even close to Fergus' level.

Lady Landra took the moments pause to introduce the lovely looking elven girl beside her. "And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona." she introduced. Iona seemed to shrink as Serena let go of Dairren to greet her. Sensing her discomfort, Serena gave her gentle smile and dipped her head. "Do say something, dear." Lady Landra urged.

On the spot, Iona rushed. "It is a great pleasure, my lady. You are as pretty as your mother describes."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "I would hope so." She joked.

Her mother huffed. "You would think that would make it easier to make a match for her, not more difficult."

Serena rolled her eyes. She hated talk of this rot. She had no desire to marry a nobleman, only to have his bratty children, before she could at least adventure out into the world. Serena had made her opinion on the matter quite clear to her mother. Several times. Loudly.

Then came Dairren to the rescue. "Perhaps your daughter has a mind of her own, your ladyship. You should be proud." Shooting a smiled at Serena. She blew a kiss to him in response.

"Proud doesn't get me anymore grandchildren."

Directing a look at her mother, with the clear message. Stop. "Mother," Serena stressed. "I can handle my own affairs, thank-you."

Disregarding the perfectly drawn out message in her words, Eleanor only crossed her arms. "All evidence to the contrary."

Sensing the air tensing between mother and daughter, Lady Landra stood between them, gripping Eleanor's hands in her own. "I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear." Kissing her mother's cheeks, Lady Landra turned to her son. "Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper." She farewelled, not before gripping Serena's hand with both of hers and giving a gentle squeeze.

As Lady Landra, Dairren took that moment to excuse himself and Iona. "Perhaps we'll retire to the study for now." He nodded. Both he and Iona bid farewell before walking away briskly.

Serena looked at her mother, an eyebrow raised. "Think it was something we said?" she asked. Eleanor smiled and brought Serena into an embrace.

Smelling her mothers perfume, Serena relaxed and closed her eyes, while Eleanor's hands worked their way into her hair, brushing it with her fingers like she used to when she was a girl. "I know it's difficult to stay in the castle and watch others ride off, but we must see to our duties first."

Serena opened her eyes and pulled away, not wanting to get into it now. Eleanor grabbed onto her shoulder tightly, with too much strength that Serena thought could fit in her mother's dainty hand.

"You understand that, don't you?" her mother asked, her green eyes peering into the depths of her daughter's blue.

She felt herself take a deep breath. Collapsing back into her mother she whispered against her neck. "What if they fall without me?" she asked, voice small.

Smoothing down her daughter's hair again, Eleanor sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "It's in the Maker's hands now, and we must cope the best we can."

Serena nestled in deeper into the crook of her mother's neck and shoulder, ear pressing against her collarbone. "I have a bad feeling about all this."

"As do I. Your father and brother ride off to face Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world do not comfort me." Taking her daughter off of her and holding her face between her hands. "But it wouldn't help to take up arms and follow. Fergus and your father have their duty and we have ours."

Nodding glumly, Serena pulled herself out of her mothers hold. Smiling sadly. "I should go." She told her.

Holding her hands over her heart, Eleanor smiled back. "I love you, my darling girl. You know that don't you?"

Laughing Serena's smile turned bright. "I'm hardly a girl any longer."

Eleanor's sobering smile almost stunned her. "Indeed." She said, arms falling to her sides. "I turned around and here you are, a fine woman in your own right. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Spike padded softly up to Serena and whined softly. Looking down at the mabari before looking back to her mother. "Go," Eleanor said. "Do what you must. I will see you soon."

The Teyrna of Highever turned quickly, and Serena saw her hands quickly rising to meet her face from behind her, as if to wipe away tears, before quickly putting them down.

Composing herself, she bent down to pet Spike's head and straightened her posture, like her mother, she was a lady. This was not the time nor the place for scenes of emotions. "C'mon, boy. Time to see what Fungus is up to."

Her brother's room was always bigger than hers when they were growing up. 'He needed space to swing his sword' he had always claimed. Now that he had a wife to share his bed with, the room had lost its space and gained multiple armoires, wooden chests and vanities that her sister-in-law, Oriana had brought with her from Antiva. Including all the clothes she could ever need.

It wasn't a secret that Serena had sometimes snuck in to pinch a scarf or shoes, even a whole outfit, from Oriana's collection. It had become an inside joke that the whole family was aware of. Except Oriana of course.

In fact, when Oriana did discover her sister-in-laws kleptomania, it was when she had also found herself caught in the act of something even more primal. She had found herself in need of a dress that she had planned to match a certain knight's tunic, at one of her mother's salons the next day. Finding nothing of any similar shade, she had gone to try her luck with Oriana's Antivan garments.

Choosing a night, she knew they would not be within their room, that night being Fergus and Oriana's anniversary dinner, she had spirited across the hall. What she didn't expect, was them to come back early, or find them in any position that was horizontal.

Walking in now, Serena was relieved to not see them in a similar position.

Oren, her nephew was what Fergus was when he was that age. Short and snotty. But she brought herself to love Fergus then, and Oren seemed no different. She had already forgotten what it was like to not have Oren around, nipping at heels and running rampant around the castle.

"Is there really gonna be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a sward." He gushed, his voice sounding wispy through the gap of his two front teeth.

His father and her brother, Fergus, gave a hearty chuckle, as he bent down to Oren's height and messed with his head. "That's a 'sword', Oren. And I'll bring you the mightiest one I can find, I promise." Fergus stood to his full height. "I'll be back before you know it."

Her hand clasped over her chest Oriana leaned into Fergus' chest. "I wish victory were indeed so certain. My heart is…" she paused, pressing her face into Fergus. "Disquiet." She finished.

Gripping his wife around the waist and holding her tightly. "Don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth."

Walking in, to deliberately disrupt their… Their… well whatever that was, Serena grinned widely. "You two are nauseating me." She announced, collapsing heavily on their bedding.

Seeing his aunt, Oren smiled and launched himself at her. Holding her arms out, she caught the young boy in her arms and laid down on the bed to raise him above her. "Ooof, you're getting heavy." She complained but couldn't find it in her to ditch her smile.

Laughing, Fergus let go of his wife. "And here's my little sister to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well." Oriana scowled, but walked to Serena grab Oren from his aunt and kiss her cheek as she got up from her marital bed.

Oriana sighed. "When there's a man in your life, Serena, you'll understand."

Laughing, Serena grinned at her sister-in-law. Out of everyone, Oriana was the easiest, and one of the funniest to tease. Serena chalked it up to her not being entirely used to her yet. "I prefer my freedom, Oriana. I'd thought by now you'd understand that the spinster's life is for me."

Rolling her eyes, but smiling nonetheless, Oriana backed down, but Fergus knew the rules of the game.

"One day, you'll meet someone who can handle you, mark my words." He laughed.

"No fewer than three, please."

Fergus laughed. "A man, not cats!"

Her grin melted into a light smile as she sobered the mood. "I bring a message, brother: Father wants you to leave without him."

The look on Fergus' face darkened and he swore. After a light chiding from Oriana, and a few repeats of the word from Oren, Fergus started to pace. "Then the Arl's men are delayed. You'd think his men were all walking backwards!"

"Well, I'd better be underway. So many Darkspawn to behead, so little time." Offering a final grin for his family, he ruffled Oren's hair, and gave Oriana a long kiss. Serena had to avoid her eyes. "Off we go then. I'll see you soon, my love."

Before Fergus could leave the room, he was quickly flanked by the Teyrn and Teyrna. "I would hope dear boy, that you had planned to wait for us, before taking your leave."

"And rob myself of the delightful company? Never."

Eleanor embraced Fergus and kissed his cheek. "Be well my son, I will pray for your safety every day you are gone."

Serena watched the exchange between her parents and brother. It was like any other interaction that she'd had with them. Fergus would say something inappropriate in front of father to make him chuckle along with him, and depending on who caught him, mother or Oriana, he'd end with a clipped ear. She zoned out for a moment. Knowing that in a couple hours, her brother and father, the men she had idolised her entire life, would leave her behind to fight a war that she should participate in.

She fought herself not to be angry. That this would be the last time she'd see them in a while. Maker forbid if anything were to actually happen to any of them. She would not spoil this, for her own sake. Serena forced a smile on her face and joined in with the atmosphere.

This was her family, and nothing would ruin this moment for her.

* * *

The growling woke her up. She had gotten used to Spike waking her up, so he could go do his doggy business. But as she got out of bed and slumped to the door and unlock it, she couldn't help but feel like something was wrong.

Stepping away from the door and toward Spike, Serena bent down. "What is it boy?" she asked, scratching behind his ear, but Spike wouldn't relax, but kept snarling at the door. She stood up and backed up behind him. "Is someone out there, boy?" she asked him.

Spike's affirmative bark kicked her into gear, as she tugged on her leathers and grabbed her bow, the pink shine slightly dull in the faint candlelight. Grabbing a score of arrows and a knife to stuff in her belt, she braved the door again.

Opening the door, she yelped as a bolt implanted itself into the wood beside her head. Looking out into the hall, a man in chainmail was reloading his crossbow. Serena didn't hesitate.

"Spike!" she yelled as the mabari ran past her and toward the would-be assassin. "Maul!" she yelled, and immediately, Spike charged himself into the assailant's leg. The man shouted, as he was brought to the ground, only for his throat to be set upon by Spike's angry jaws, his face scrunched into a hellish snarl. The man's scream was muted, as Spike ravaged his neck, before he jumped off of the corpse and beside his mistress.

The man wasn't alone, however, and soon Serena was set upon by a man with an iron longsword and a shield, baring the Howe family crest.

The man brought his sword down on her, but using her bow, she used it to deflect and swipe at the man with the bladed edge. Serena batted away his longsword, going down to catch his fingers. The soldier let go of his sword with a gasp and raised his shield to defend against the mabari onslaught, that Spike had unleashed.

With his sword covering his body from Spike's fangs and claws, he realised too late that Serena had shot and arrow, flying in between the space that his helmet protected and through his eye.

Lowering her bow, Serena looked around, noticing her parent's bedroom door was slightly splintered, but intact. She raced towards it and started banging on it, yelling. "Mum! Dad! Open the door!"

From behind the door, Serena heard her mothers voice. "Serena!" her mother gasped. The sound of the door unlocking was almost drowned out from the shouts and screams from further in the castle, that her mother throwing her arms around her neck as soon as the door opened, surprised her greatly. Her mother was clad in her leather armour as well, her father's longbow across her back. "Sweetheart are you alright? A scream woke me up and there were men in the hall, so I barred the door!"

Looking across the hall Eleanor's eyes fell to the soldier's shield. She gasped and brought a hand to her mouth. "That's Howe's shield! Why would they attack us?!"

"He betrayed Father!" Serena growled. She saw the look on her mother's face harden. "He attacks while our troops are gone!"

"You don't think Howe's men were delayed… on purpose?" Eleanor looked out at the dead bodies, not needing an answer. "That bastard! I'll cut his lying throat myself!"

Eleanor strode towards the centre of the hall. "Have you seen your father?" she almost pleaded, and Serena's blood turned to ice. "He never came to bed!"

Mouth floundering as every dark scenario played itself on repeat in her head. "Maybe he stayed up with Arl Howe?" she offered weakly.

Face paling. Eleanor ran to Fergus' room, banging on the door. "We must find him! Oriana! Oren! It's safe, you must come with us!"

And while her mother had opened the door to Fergus' room, Serena had the perfect view of her sister-in-law and nephew, laying lifelessly on the Orlesian rugs in a pool of their own blood.

Her knees buckling, she fell to the floor. Eleanor, still unaware rushed to her daughter's side, only to glimpse the horror that had befallen their family.

Eleanor stood back up, leaving Serena where she was and stumbled into the room. Slumping down next to her grandson's body, she grabbed him and pulled him to her, trying to cover the wound in the young boys stomach. Serena stared at the ground in horror, unable to look at the display in front of her. She jolted as her mothers scream of anguish spurred her into action, her muscles spasmed despite herself and forced her to stand.

She grabbed her mothers arm and had to rip her away from Oren. "We need to go." She muttered to Eleanor, her head feeling light, it was almost like she had said nothing at all. Her mother was refusing to move as she ripped her arm from her daughter and continued to cry for the small body underneath them. Serena was forced to grab Oren's body and pull him away from her, as her mother cried and pleaded not to take him from her. "We need to go!" she said forcefully, not breaking eye contact with her mother's red rimmed eyes.

Slowly, Eleanor nodded, and slowly turned on her knees as she crawled to the door. Heart clenching painfully, as her mother continued to cry, she called for Spike, who, still covered in blood sat on the floor, tiny ears drooped and whining lowly. She gave Oren a firm hug, his weight almost unbearable to her. Serena laid him down next to his mother. Leaving the room, with her arms around her grief-stricken mother and a crying mabari at her heels.

She swallowed, the action painful and rough on her throat as she fought the urge to sit on the floor and bawl her eyes out. Survive now, cry later. "Ready yourself!" she demanded. She and her mother held out their bows and Spike hunched into position.

She inched the door open before kicking it out and found herselvf in the direct eyeline of several Howe soldiers. Giving a command, the soldiers charged. Serena readied an arrow and yelled at Spike. "Stand." The mabari growled but didn't move. Just as quickly, Serena and Eleanor began picking soldiers off with their bows, taking each one down before they reached the women. Finally, a lone archer was left, knocking an arrow, Serena yelled again. "Dive! Maul!" she yelled.

Both women dived sideways and out of the archer's initial range. The arrow flew through the gap Serena had previously been, as Spike charged through the middle and towards the archer. The archer screamed and held his bow out in front of him to defend himself against the beast.

Spike tore the archers hand off, and Serena flinched at the archers scream, horrified at the gore that she almost told Spike to stand down. Almost.

Serena refused to look as Spike tore into the archer, instead focussing on her mother who had chosen to search the guest bedroom.

Her mother stumbled backwards from the door, and immediately Serena knew it wasn't good. "I'm so sorry Landra." She had heard her mother mutter as if in prayer. "If she hadn't come to me, if she hadn't been here…"

Grabbing her mother's hand in her own, Eleanor squeezed tightly, almost terrified to let go. Calling Spike back, she pets him gently on the head, trying her best to ignore the wet sticky fur at the top of his head.

Running out of their quarters, the Cousland women reached the courtyard. The fighting was all around them, as they witnessed staff and soldier being cut down by Howe's men.

Eleanor gasped. "They're not even taking hostages. Howe means to kill all of us!"

Serena's visioned blurred and the battle threatened to deafen her. This was her home, Howe had turned it into a bloodbath.

Her mother shook her. "We have to get to the larder!" she said. "There's an escape passage. You must escape!"

Her head shook vigorously. "I'm not leaving until Howe's dead!"

Eleanor refused to hear it. "We're outnumbered and overrun. They'd cut us down if we don't get out of here now! Is that what you want?!"

She laughed dry and hollow. "I want vengeance!" she growled.

Eleanor cupped her face. "Then live." She had said. Serena blinked away tears. Survive now, cry later.

The look her mother had given her as she reached around her neck and unclipped her necklace was unlike the face of the woman she had seen grasping at her only grandchild's body. This was Eleanor Mac Eanrig Cousland, The Sea Wolf and true battle maiden. "Take this to the treasury and retrieve the Cousland family blade. If anything is worth fighting to keep out of Howe's hands, it's that sword!"

Unsure and scared, all Serena could do was nod. "That's my girl." Her mother stroked her cheek. "We haven't much time. Now we destroy anyone that tries to stop us."

* * *

The way to the treasury was dangerous. Falling planks of burning wood and stone, Howe's soldiers flanking them on both sides. Many times, she wondered how she managed not to die in each assault. With the vault all but blown open, she had managed to claim the sword her ancestor Sarim Cousland, the honourguard of lord Conobar Elstan.

The sword itself had the mould of a traditional longsword, but that didn't mean it wasn't impressive. Made out of silverite, the sword gave a wicked sheen in the candlelight, it's edge so sharp that you couldn't see where the blade ended and the edge of the world began, its golden guard compressed with small patterns of dancing wolves and its hilt wrapped in black leather that Serena had rumoured was made of dragon scales.

Serena picked up the sword and was overwhelmed with a sense of… righteousness.

Watching her daughter admire the Cousland sword made Eleanor smile despite herself. "Its name is Quicksilver." Serena said nothing, spending a moment to marvel at the feel of it, before remembering herself and strapping it to her belt. Eleanor nodded at her, eyes red rimmed but dry and hard. "Use it to take Howe's head."

Bursting out from the vault caught the attention of several guards. Serena and her mother rapid fired several shots, before a mabari in Howe's colours charged her, eyes wild and teeth bared and bloody. Using the pointed end of the bow, she slashed at its face. Cringing at its whine of pain, she withdrew Quicksilver and plunged it into its heart, giving it a quick death.

A soldier lashed out at her, sword swinging like a madman. Using Quicksilver, she parried his blow and landed a kick to his crotch, bringing him to his knees. He groaned and looked up at her, eyes tearing as he held his hands up in surrender. She slit his throat, Quicksilver spraying his blood across her torso and further dirtying the jerkin she wore. Serena narrowed her eyes, animals she could sympathise with, but she would flay each and everyone of these bastards, starting with the would-be usurper.

The normal passage to the larder was covered in flaming debris and rocks from the trebuchet's launching into her ancestral home, forcing Serena and her mother to cut through the main hall. Upon their entrance, they were set upon by a number of Howe soldiers. Ser Gilmore, who Serena was pleased to see had survived was leading the attack, both Grey Wardens, Duncan and Rico battling for their lives.

"We must help them!" Serena yelled, drawing her bow and letting off several shots into the battle. She fell one and debilitated one long enough for Duncan to drive both sword and dagger into his gut.

Duncan looked back and nodded. Serena nodded back at him and kept loosing arrow after arrow into the enemy numbers. The doors were opened slightly, allowing more of Howe's men to funnel in.

Serena searched for a way to seal the doors, to avoid being overwhelmed. She spotted a woman in a robe standing nonchalantly, sticking to herself, and looking at the fighting as if she were browsing. It wasn't long before one of Serena's soldiers got to close to her that she unleashed a spout of fire, burning him alive. The scream she could live with, the smell however.

Serena turned to Duncan, who had shot his arms through an enemy's armpit and raised his arms above his body, giving Rico the opportunity to litter the man with some stab wounds. "The mage!" she shouted to Duncan.

Duncan looked up from the fallen body, and set upon the mage, keeping a careful distance. The mage hunched, readying a spell. Serena launched an arrow, but it seemed to deflect mid-air, a barrier shimmering slightly before disappearing.

"Shit!" she cursed, avoiding an enemy and using her boot knife to stab his throat. She saw Duncan swipe at the mage, only to miss and be propelled back by an invisible telekinetic force.

Duncan was helpless, and Rico was too engaged to be of any assistance. Dropping her bow, she drew Quicksilver and charged. The mage paid her no heed as she ran, hoping to reach her before she grilled Duncan alive.

Getting closer, she pulled her arms back and swung. The mage looked up in surprise, losing focus for her spell as the magic in her hands sputtered and died. Screaming in rage and anger, Serena slashed at the mages head… And watched it tumble down from her shoulders.

Panting and out of breath, she reached the doors and tried to push it closed. She struggled and cursed, as one soldier slipped in through the crack, before being slashed by Duncan, as he helped her close the door and lock it.

Falling backwards she let out a deep breath. Duncan nodded at her and held his hand out for her to take. "I must thank you, for saving my life."

She shrugged, wanting to say something funny, but decided to keep breathing in and out. She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. Duncan watched her curiously. "The barrier?" he asked. "How did you know it only reflected ranged attacks?"

She shrugged again, finally catching her breath. "She was very defensive close range, that's why she kept attacking the ones who got too close."

He made a sound and looked thoughtful. "Maybe I was-" whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Ser Gilmore.

"Go! Man the gates! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!"

Looking to the centre of the room, a few limping soldiers brushed past her, pushing on the gate as it suddenly trembled harshly.

The Teyrna was on Ser Gilmore immediately. "Ser Gilmore! Where is Bryce? Have you seen him?" she pleaded.

Ser Gilmore's face relaxed as he took in Serena and Eleanor. "Oh Maker, I am so relieved they didn't break through!" he exclaimed, and Serena's face twitched.

Eleanor looked at the young knight, heartbreak plain across her face. "They did break through! Oren and Oriana are dead."

Ser Gilmore paled and brought a hand across his face. "Maker preserve me… I failed you."

Eleanor simply shook her head. "You have not Ser Gilmore, but what of Bryce? What of my husband? Does he yet live?"

"I believe I can answer that." Duncan said, striding into the conversation, Rico following behind him, Serena's bow in hand. "We found the Teyrn in the study and escorted him to the larder. He wanted us to come back and see you both safely as well, but we mustn't dawdle. He is gravely wounded and it has been too long already." He warned.

The Teyrna cried out in relief. "Then we must meet him." She tore off, going to the other side door, Duncan and Rico following behind her.

Serena looked to Ser Gilmore and nodded her head to the door. He slowly shook his. Serena felt her eyes go wide.

"I cannot leave these men here to their fate." He said.

Serena cried out. "But you'll die."

He didn't say anything, only gave her a sad smile and cupped her cheek with his gloved hand. Looking down at the ground, she felt tears stream down her face. Survive now, cry later.

Looking back up at him, she leaned up slightly and planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Farewell," she said, her voice almost muted. "Ser knight."

He stood at attention and saluted. "Farewell, my lady." Ser Gilmore turned from her and threw his weight against the doors. Unable to watch the brave men who were prepared to sacrifice their lives for her family, struggle against the opposing forces, she left them to their fates, all the while cursing her cowardice.

* * *

For the second time today, Serena found herself in the larder. She had found Nan as well. She also found herself quite sick of stepping over the dead bodies of those who had served her family. The guilt of their deaths was beginning to eat away at her. Survive now, cry later.

Opening the larder door, Eleanor rushed in, looking into the shadows, desperate to find her husband.

Bryce Cousland, the lion of Fereldan, was discovered, lying in a pool of blood, a pale hand clasping weakly at the hole in his gut. "There… you both are" he muttered weakly, before slipping onto the ground.

"Bryce!" her mother screamed. "Makers breath, Bryce what happened?"

Her father made a noise that sounded in between a cough and a laugh. "Howe… found me first. Almost… did me in right there."

Serena gasped. "Why is he doing this?"

Bryce grimaced. "He can't.." he yelped. "He can't get away with this!"

Eleanor shook her head. "Bryce stop, we must get you out of here."

Taking his wife's hand in his he, gently gripped it. "I… I won't survive the standing, I think."

Serena collapsed to her knees beside her father, tears streaming freely and sobs racking her body. "Please…" she begged her father. "Please not you too."

"Ah," Bryce coughed again. "If only will could make it so."

A voice from behind them, Duncan, broke through the sound of the death outside the castle and covered her father's dying breaths. "Once Howe's men break through, they will find us. We must leave at once."

Serena's father looked at her. "You must… go… Find Fergus… Tell him what has happened."

Scrunching her eyes to stop the tears, Serena found herself in despair. Slowly she nodded. "And take vengeance." She breathed.

"Yes." Her father agreed. "Vengeance."

He looked at his daughter and wife one last time. "I'll always love you. You must go!" he coughed. He looked to the Grey Wardens. "Duncan, please get them out of here!"

Standing up Serena paced the larder, throwing looks at her father, mother and the Grey Wardens.

"I will your Lordship. But I fear I must ask for something in return."

Serena threw a dirty look to Duncan, blood burning in her ears. How dare he ask of a boon while her father was dying.

Whether he saw the way she looked at him or not, he didn't stand down, but continued. "What has transpired here, is nothing compared if we fail to stop the rising darkspawn in the south. The Blight demands that I leave with a recruit."

Serena shook violently, either from rage or her despair, she couldn't tell. But she knew which one she preferred. "You mean me?" she demanded, eyes burning. "I won't do it! I refuse!"

Bryce shot his eyes to his daughter. "Then what else?" he pleaded, his voice already too weak. "How will you survive?"

Duncan nodded and kneeled down in front of the Teyrn of Highever. "I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the King what has transpired here. Then your daughter joins the Grey Wardens."

She felt the world crumble around her. "Father?" she asked.

He didn't look at her. "So long as justice comes to Howe… I agree."

From beside her, Duncan, looked at her. "Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens. Fight with us."

Closing her eyes, she could feel her tears spilling freely, she nodded despite herself. "Please don't do this." she begged.

"We must leave quickly."

Her mother looked from Bryce to Serena to Duncan. "Bryce… are you sure?"

He nodded, his head lolling of to the side. "Our girl will live… and leave her mark on the world." He declared. "But you must leave me."

Bryce looked into his wife's eyes, they were big and green and wet. He knew that look almost too well. "Eleanor, no." he pleaded.

"What? Mother what are you doing?" Serena turned back around to her mother, horrified, her mother didn't look at her for the longest second of Serena's life. Eleanor turned to look at her daughter, but her eyes were closed, tears falling like a stream.

Eleanor opened her eyes and smiled at her daughter. "Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me."

"No. No! I won't leave you here to die!" Serena yelled, helplessness threatening to consume her.

She stood up and brought her daughter up with her, embracing her daughter tightly. "My place is with your father. I will go with him to death and beyond."

Sobs wracking her body, arms around her mother's neck in a lock, afraid to let go. "I love you both so much!" she cried.

Eleanor had to pry herself off of her daughter, as Duncan gripped her arm tightly and start pulling her away from them. Spike, and the dwarf already beginning their descent into the escape tunnel. Ignoring her daughter's shouts and pleas. "No, no, no, no, no." It was a chant in her head as her Serena struggled against Duncan and disappearing completely. When she closed her eyes she could almost smell her daughter's blonde hair and feel her Oren clinging to her arm.

She sat beside Bryce, hands interlocked within his.

"I'm sorry, it's come to this… my love."

She smoothed the hairs of Bryce's hair down as he leaned onto her lap. "We had a good life and did all we could. It's up to our children now."

A thundering crack resonated around them, followed by the gleeful shouts of an army. Eleanor could hear Howe's laugh in that horrific sound. She felt Bryce slip away from her in her arms.

* * *

Watching from a hill, far in the distance, Serena could smell Highever burning, as Howe raided and violated her home. Hands clenched into fists, Serena gritted her teeth. "Survive now, cry later." She said.

Below her, Spike whimpered.

* * *

 **Part 2 of the prologue. Serena's a cali girl, but without the California. Now cut off from daddy's money and on the road to Ostagar, the only think she can think of is vengeance to vent her grief. Not entirely healthy, but not unfair either.**

 **Part 3 coming up soon. Looking forward to it.**


	3. Enter Damien

**Lightly Faded**

As long as Damien knew First Enchanter Irving, he never knew him to be nervous or anxious. Which has been a very long time. But as he looked upon Irving know, he looked something short of a wreck. Damien chalked it up to old age, but if he didn't know any better, he'd say Irving was worried about him.

That's neat.

The apprentice strutted towards Irving, as he entered the Harrowing chamber. "Irving." Damien greeted.

The older man's smile was strained. "Damien." He grunted.

"Damien Amell!" Knight-Commander Greigor shouted, voice echoing around the almost empty chamber. "As an apprentice to the Circle of Fereldan, you will be going through the ritual to ; The Harrowing." The word echoed ominously around.

"'Magic exists to serve man, not to rule over him.' Thus spoken the prophet, Andraste, as she thrust down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by the mages who brought the world to the edge of ruin."

Pacing in front of Damien, he continued. The younger man fought off the urge to roll his eyes. Last time he did, Irving scolded him.

"Your magic is a gift, but it's also a curse," Damien actually did roll an eye at that, but only one. He wouldn't dignify that with both eyes. "For the demons of the dream realm- the Fade- are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway to this world."

Damien sighed. "You're starting to preach first year studies, Greigor."

The Knight-Commander glared but said nothing, opting to ready the ritual for Damien to undertake. Irving used this chance to speak privately.

"This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will."

He scoffed. "And I thought it'd be challenging." He boasted loudly. He saw a smile quirk onto Irving's lips.

Greigor returned, and with him he intentionally placed his hand on his sword. "Know this apprentice, if you fail, we Templars will perform our duty. You will die."

Irving gestured forward, to a large crystalline bowl in the centre of the room. Blue glowing within, surrounding the bowl in shining white and blue colours.

"This," Greigor said after a while. "Is lyrium. The very essence of magic and your gateway to the fade."

Damien scrunched his face, the glow beginning to irritate his eyes. As Greigor stood behind the bowl, Irving hurried to his side. "The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child." The First Enchanter whispered. "Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you."

"Keep your wits about you, Damien. They will serve you well in a realm of dreams and demons. Remember your studies, and your achievements in the Circle. The spirits may rule the Fade, but you can conquer it."

"The apprentice must go through this alone, First Enchanter." Greigor warned. That made Damien smile. They both looked to Damien as an old married couple. Definitely old, if nothing else. "You are ready."

As Damien approached the bowl, he felt the lull of the lyrium become louder in his head. He reached out to dip his hand into the bowl, but the lyrium seemed to jump, spraying his hand and whisking his mind away.

To everyone in the room, Damien had collapsed to his knees in front of the basin, head rolling to the side. To him, he was carried away from the tower on a wind and a laugh.

* * *

The Fade itself, was a twisted dark version of what he usually saw when he dreamed. But to consciously be in the Fade, was disarming. Disturbing statues of long-forgotten lords and kings. A grey statue of a barbarian conqueror, wielding twin axes, scowling in anger. He almost looked like he was advancing onto Damien.

With a huff, Damien continued his exploration. Sighing loudly in irritation as his feet started to burn, the soles of his shoes not meant for trekking. Irving had explained to him once, that the Fade was almost too real, that your mind would subconsciously bring external feelings in, almost to fool him.

Damien stopped for a moment and concentrated on his feet. His mage's slippers slowly morphing into a pair of fancy leather boots. Boots he had saw once on an off-duty Templar. The boots were felt instantly more comfortable, and the burn in his legs vanished almost immediately. With a short laugh, Damien was on his way through the Fade once more.

It wasn't long until his first enemy was upon him. Smalls wisps of magic, floating around him, trying to ambush him. Eying them warily as they picked up their pace and surrounded him, flying around like a mini tornado.

Each wisp shot a magic bolt at him. He grunted, feeling as if he were jabbed with a pin. Gathering the mana around him, he forced the wisps to disband themselves and power his spell. Slowly dissolving, some wisps disappeared entirely, before he shot a lightning bolt of his own at the remaining wisp.

The power of the blow slammed into the wisp, as the magic he had used to power gave a low scream. He was alone once again. Or so he thought.

"That was a clever trick." A voice had said. Looking around, trying to place it, Damien brought his eyes to the ground, a small mouse hiding in a little hole. Tentatively, the mouse came out of hiding. "You know to use the environment well."

A little put off by the sudden appearance of talking animals, Damien was almost reluctant to engage in conversation, but he needn't bother, the mouse continued on.

"But you are just another thrown to the wolves, as fresh and unprepared as ever." The mouse stood upon it's two hind legs, nose twitching. "It isn't right that they do this, not to you, me, anyone."

Finding his voice Damien crossed his arms. "You're a talking rat." He said, more to himself than the mouse.

The mouse squeaked, and Damien assumed that it must have been a laugh. "You think you're really here? In that body? You look like that because you think you do!"

Bringing his hands in front of his face, Damien could see the colour and texture, almost foggily, but they were accurate, even had the marks on his hands from Uldred's lessons. Running a hand through his hair, he felt each strand, rolling them between his fingers, he couldn't see them, but he assumed they were the same shade of black. He wondered if he could imagine himself as a dragon. Would he take that shape, or would he only think that he did?

The mouse sighed, the squeaks from his twitchy mouth quieting. "It's always the same. But it's not your fault. You're in the same boat I was." In a flash of white, the mouse grew to over 5 feet, taking the appearance of a man, not too much older than he was. "Let me welcome you to the Fade. You can call me… well, Mouse." He introduced, giving a mocking bow.

Raising an eyebrow, Damien scoffed. "Not your real name, I take it."

His face drawing into a frown, Mouse looked past his head, as if in a dream. "No. I don't remember anything from before." Mouse shook his head, affirming his gaze to Damien. "The Templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figure you failed, and instead of risking something getting out, and they slay you where you lay."

Turning his back on Damien, Mouse shot a look over his shoulder. "That's what they did to me." He muttered quietly. "At least, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same."

"I haven't been here that long."

"Time is different in the Fade. A second here is a lifetime out there. You've been here longer than you may think."

Damien sighed, and walked past Mouse. "Right or wrong," he said to the shapeshifter. "I will succeed."

Mouse however, only scoffed. "That has been said before." Mouse paused a moment. "But I think I may actually believe you."

Sighing loudly Mouse fell into step beside Damien. "There is something here, contained." He warned. "A demon they have summoned to tempt you. You must resist it, if you can."

Grabbing Damien's shoulder, Mouse turned him around, to face him. "I will help us much as I can. If you'll let me."

Thoughtful, Damien weighed his options. If Mouse was right, he could use someone to guide him across the Fade. From the look of Mouse, he'd been here a while. Damien had been in the tower for longer than he can remember, and he didn't seem to recognise, Mouse.

Damien figured he might not have been from the Fereldan tower, but the Fade reflected the real world. Damien doubted that Mouse would have wondered the Fade this far, without travelling in the waking realm first.

Nodding his head, he held out his hand, careful to choose his words carefully. "I accept your help to guide me in the Fade. Lead the way." He said to Mouse.

Mouse's usual downtrodden look brightened significantly, as he shook Damien's hand with gusto. "I've sensed a spirit up ahead. But it is dangerous. Do not go near it unless you're ready to fight." He warned, and like that, Mouse had reverted back into a mouse.

Travelling the Fade with Mouse was uneventful, boring even. In trying to learn more about the demon, he had been suckered into hearing Mouse's life story, or at least as much as he could remember. Damien found it incredibly dull.

Mouse had only told him two things about the demon. That it was dangerous and cunning. Not entirely helpful, but not useless either.

On his way to face the spirit Mouse had told him about, they walked past a crater into the side of the beaten path. Fire erupting from the edges, as mounds of lyrium sang in places scattered within. The feeling of wrongness settled within Damien's bones.

"That," Mouse squeaked. "Is where the test will take place. The demon could be anywhere, but it manifests there."

The gravity of the situation sinking in, Damien tore his eyes away from his future battlefield. I am strong, no demon is a match for me. He mused. Throwing a last look at the crater, Damien continued on.

"Good," Mouse had said, running on his little legs to catch up. "I've never liked fire, anyway."

They walked further, eventually coming to the bottom of a hill, with a twisted stone watchtower standing at the top. Mouse squeaked again. "The spirit is up there."

The young apprentice nodded, taking long steps to climb the hill. At the top, he found a ghostly Templar waiting at the top. The Templar was luminescent and almost transparent, as he swung an equally ghostly sword, as if in practice. His movements were precise however and matched the stances and footwork he'd seen Templars like Greigor and Cullen use.

The Templar stopped his practice, and gripped onto his sword, before driving the tip into the ground below. He stood for a moment, gazing into Damien's eyes. The silence was palpable and made Damien uncomfortable, like he never left the tower.

Finally, the Templar spoke. "Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see." His voice echoing around the Fade. With how vast the Fade was, there was too many echoes, Damien thought. "Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill, then to be sent unarmed against a demon."

"Then what weapon would work against a demon? You have quite the collection," Damien motioned to the stacks of swords behind the Templar. "You wouldn't mind if I borrowed one?" he asked.

"Of course, you are not the first mortal to seek, Valor's aid." He said. "But Valor is not here to assist you, however. Valor's aim is to seek perfection, to create the ultimate weapon for the pursuit of valor."

The Templar, Valor, started to pace. "You think these swords be steel? These staves be wood? Do you believe they draw blood?" he asked. "A weapon, is a single need for battle. And my will, makes them reality."

Valor stopped in front of Damien. "If you truly desire one of Valor's weapons, then I will give one to you… Only if you defeat me in a duel first. Allow Valor to test your mettle, as it should be tested."

Mouse squeaked and ran behind Damien's leg. "Oh no."

Squaring his jaw and looking into what he assumed to be Valor's eyes, he nodded. "I agree to your duel, Valor."

From behind him Mouse squeaked again and ditched Damien, running down the hill. "Oh no, oh no, oh no…"

Withdrawing his weapon from the ground, Valor readied it in front of him. "As you wish, mortal."

With blinding speed, Valor lunged at Damien. He dodged immediately, only to be set upon by blow after blow. Unable to get a decent spell off, Damien had no choice but to keep dodging as best he could.

His fatigue leaving him quickly, Valor only seemed to get faster, or was Damien slowing down? He refused to believe it. This was just like before, his mind thinks it should be getting tired, so he is. Will makes the reality here, and my will is the strongest.

With renewed vigour, Damien managed to double his speed, managing to dodge and dive past Valor and behind him. Standing into position quickly, Damien jumped backwards, eager to put more space between him and Valor. Calling on his mana, he summoned ice to stab into Valor's legs.

Pinned to the ground, Valor let out a ghostly yell, as the ice only seemed to grow up into his body. Using his opponent's debilitation, Damien called onto multiple lightning bolts and struck them into Valor's chest.

Valor's armour, rippled with electricity as it spread across the spirit. With a shout and a swing of his sword, Valor had cut enough ice away to break free. Storming towards him, Damien readied the rest of his mana into a final spell.

Calling on the Fade itself, Damien released a spirit bolt aimed directly at Valor's head. The bolt blasted through the helmet and it quickly dissolved into nothing, leaving a headless Templar knight standing in Valor's place.

The spirit's voice, seemingly coming from nowhere, shouted. "Enough. Your strength is sufficient to the task." Holding out the sword Valor had used to Damien, the mage grabbed hold of the handle, only for it to morph into a fine Silverite staff, with twin dragon heads meeting at the top to hold a shining red orb in place. The staff looking eerily like Irving's.

Holding the staff out in front of him, he tested the weight, and was almost surprised by the fact that he couldn't feel any heft. "Thank-you." Damien said, the headless spirit bowing in response, before going over to his pile of weapons, and picking a new one out with a faceless gaze.

Damien waited for a reply from the headless spirit, before realising he wouldn't receive one. Leaving Valor to continue his swordplay, he climbed down the hill again, where he met Mouse.

"By the Fade! You actually beat Valor!" he cried, transforming back into his human form.

"Yeah, I did." His head tilting with confusion as he studied Mouse. "Have you ever saw anyone that fought the demon?" he asked.

Mouse's face scrunched in concentration, as if trying to remember something. "I… I don't know. The Fade, it does something to you. My mind cannot recall from before I became trapped here. I think… You are the first person I have met here, since then." His face falling, anguish written plainly over Mouse's plain features. "We should move quickly now. There is another spirit. Not the one hunting you, but could prove deadly all the same."

"Introduce us."

Saying nothing, Mouse reverted back and scampered down the winding path. Damien followed, unsure what to make of the failed apprentice, but certain he'll see for himself soon enough. The winding path to the new spirit looked the same, but different, almost as if, Damien was here before, but he had no memory of it.

"Ahead." Mouse had claimed. "The spirit is ahead and it feels... hungry." Finally coming across a ledge, Damien could spot a massive creature resting peacefully on its edge. He thought it to be a bear, but knew it was something more and primal.

The spirit that lay in front of them was hulking beast packed with fat and muscle. Damien had studied the wildlife outside the tower, saw bears drawn into massive tomes that littered the library shelves.

This creature was unlike anything he had ever saw. Its fur patched with skin which was further torn to the muscle, blood constantly oozing from its jaws and other places along it's body, and great spikes erupting from the spine looking every bit as sharp as the monster's claws and fangs.

Slowly, it lazily blinked an eye at Damien, as if rousing from a long hibernation. It's other eye firmly closed, maybe even swollen shut. It's rough hum rumbled through its body and the air around Damien.

"So you are the mortal being hunted? And the small one? Is he to be a snack for me?" it growled, still laying upon the cracked ground.

Mouse quickly transformed, his human form still crouched away from the beast. "I-I don't like this." He wavered, hiding partially behind Damien. "He's not going to help us. We should go..." He urged.

With a loud yawn, the spirit bear stood up, a bit clumsily. "No matter. The demon will come for you… eventually. Perhaps there will even be… scraps left."

His companion squeaked, and Damien rolled his eyes. "What kind of spirit are you?" he asked.

Mouse, gripping Damien's bicep tried to pull him away, but Damien refused to be moved. "It's a demon." Mouse explained. "Maybe even more powerful than the one chasing after you."

The spirit- demon- didn't seemed impressed however. "Begone! Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal. I tire of you already." Sloth commanded.

However, that only made Damien smirk. It sure does live up to the name.

Feeling bold, Damien crossed his arms, dislodging Mouse and stared down the demon. "I want your help defeating a demon." He demanded.

Sloth merely collapsed back to the ground and let out a long and heavy yawn. "You have a very nice staff… Why would you need me? Go, use your weapon, since you have earned it. Be valorous!" he mocked.

Taking a tentative step towards Damien and Sloth, Mouse peered at the demon closely. "He looks powerful." He stated. "Maybe he can teach you to be like him."

That caught the attention of the demon, as it raised its head and opened its maw slightly. "Like me? You mean teach the mortal this form? Why? He seems quite attached to his own, to learn the change." Moving its gaze to Mouse, Sloth continued. "You, on the other hand, little one, might be a better student. You let go of your human form… ages ago."

Mouse grimaced. "Me? But how will I hide?"

Damien was thoughtful, looking out over Sloth and into the abyss that the path would have eventually led them to. "You could help me face the demon." He said out loud.

Sloth purred. "It's true… I am quite powerful in this form." It agreed. "When I wish to be." It added.

Mouse's unsure expression hardened into a scowl. "I… welcome the opportunity." He had said, rounding on Damien. "If it is my choice. The mages in the tower are quick to volunteer others, as you well know."

"If you want to tag along with me, you'll make yourself useful… Mouse." Damien glared.

He looked as if he were going to argue with Damien but caught himself. Opting to smile meekly instead. "Of course." He had said. "I'll try. I'll try to be a bear. If you'll teach me."

"That's nice. But teaching is so exhausting. Away with you now."

"I told you he wasn't going to help us." Mouse sighed.

Feeling his body burn, he turned back around on Sloth. "Mouse wants to learn. Teach him." He commanded.

Bellowing a huge sigh and a yawn, Sloth stood up again, and Damien felt the Fade tremble at his heavy footsteps. "You wish to learn, little one? Then I have a challenge for your friend. Answer three riddles correctly, then I will teach you."

Eyebrow arching. "And if I fail?" Damien asked.

"Then I devour you both. The decision is yours."

"Charming." Sloth looked tired, with a patience wearing thinner with the dragging conversation. "Very well, Sloth. I accept your challenge."

The bear looked as amazed as a bear could. "Truly? This gets more and more promising."

Sitting down on its hindlegs, Sloth stared into Damien. "My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

Rolling his eyes, Damien smirked. "You're a map."

Sloth groaned. "Correct. Let's move on."

"The second riddle: I'm rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"

Damien clicked in his tongue. "My tongue." He answered.

"Yes, your witty tongue. Fair enough. One more try, shall we?"

He used the break to elbow Mouse in the side, the apprentice gasping before holding his gut. "Greigor always said he'd have my tongue cut out one day." He mused.

"Often will I spin a tale; never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you for an entire eve, but, alas, you won't remember me. What am I?"

"A dream."

Sloth had growled, standing on all legs again. Mouse backed up uncertainly, but Damien was smug in his victory.

"You are correct. Rather apropos here in the Fade, no?" Sloth had yawned. "But you've won my challenge and proven yourself a worthy distraction. So, I shall teach you my form, little one. Never again will the Fade prey on you like all the others, so listen carefully."

Seeing the mouse transform into a bear (an anatomically accurate one, this time) was a welcome sight. It had started to drag on him, the way Mouse didn't seem to do anything else remotely helpful, besides guide him through the Fade. A guide who had constantly used all the times he could have to bag the Templars.

It got a little annoying after a while, no matter how true his words had been. Reminded him of Anders, slightly.

"Like this?" Mouse had interrupted his monologing. "Am I a bear? It feels… heavy."

Sloth grunted again. "Close enough." He mumbled, before falling to the ground in a heavy thud. Looking exhausted, Damien took that as his cue to leave. "Go, then, defeat your demon… or whatever you intend to do… I grow weary at your mortal prattling."

Walking away, Mouse was still in his bear form. "I sense your demon." He said. "It has emerged. We don't have much time left!"

Taking a deep breath. "Let's go, Mouse." He said as he returned down the path. Behind him he heard Mouse yelp and a heavy thud. Turning back, Mouse had fallen over, still not used to the weight. Damien sighed and made his way to the trial site, taking little time to arrive. Damien was almost certain it took longer getting there then back.

The crater was ablaze, as a strings of fire burned from one side of the hole to the other. Mouse gulped. "And there is a spirit of rage." He had said. Looking closely at the fire, Damien saw that it was more like a giant lava slug. Two flowing arms made of lava and molten rock erupted from its side in haphazard positions.

Here goes nothing.

Damien approached the demon, it automatically fixating its face on him.

"And so it comes to me at last." It bellowed, raising its arms as if in prayer. "Soon I shall see the land of the living through your eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul."

Damien laughed. "Shouldn't my mother be expecting a dowry first?"

Rage ignored him, instead focusing on Mouse. "Is this another offering, Mouse? Another toy you wish to use after I have finished playing with it?"

Damien turned to look at him, to glare. The shapeshifter settling on his human form scowled. "No, I'm not. I don't have to help you anymore!"

The Rage demon purred, molten lava spitting from somewhere on its face. "Aww. And after all those wonderful meals we have shared? The mouse has suddenly changed the rules? I think not."

Mouse laughed, it was short and sharp, a complete change from how Mouse had normally acted beside him. "I'm Mouse no longer. And soon I won' have to hide. I don't need to bargain with the likes of you!"

Growling, the demon prepared for attack. "We shall see." Sliding at Damien, Rage tried to grapple him with its lava arms but Damien was ready for it.

Using his ice spells, he blew a gust of cold wind at the demon, slowing him almost to a stop. A pained scream echoing from the slug as it tried to slash him. Behind him, Mouse had transformed and attacked the wisps that had gathered around them.

Good, Damien thought. Flame-o was all his. Using his staff he unleashed a torrent of spirit energy at Rage, hoping to cause serious damage before he thawed. Freed from the cold, Rage attacked again. Movements frantic and savage, he could see it had no strategy, no goal besides cause as much damage as possible. But the wild movement of the demon was unpredictable, making him miss.

Setting down a glyph in front of him, Rage backed up before going around it and back at him all over again. Narrowly dodging attacks from Rage, the demon bellowed a burst of fire towards him. Too late to actually dodge the encounter, Damien surrounded himself in a force field. The fire clashing against and repelled from the telekinetic energy engulfing him.

He waited for the fire to burn out, but that only gave Rage a chance to circle him, slashing at the field that kept him frozen in stasis. Roaring in unbridled fury, Rage only tried to hit harder.

Feeling the force field fading, Damien readied himself. As the field dispelled, Damien ducked into a crouch, but was too slow, as Rage's claw raised to slash him across the face.

Mouse chose that opportunity to crash into Rage, bringing the demon down with him, as the shapeshifter sprawled across the ground. Damien saw Rage right itself before grabbing Bear by the foot and swinging him a couple feet into a pillar. Mouse landed with a crash and a squeal.

Using his opponent's distraction, Damien dashed in front of him, aware that Rage was quickly gaining on him. Keeping an eye on the ground, he could see Rage's bright light become stronger and stronger. Finally seeing the glyph on the ground, he jumped up and over.

Rage however was not so lucky. Screaming and shouting as the glyph lit up around Rage, it flailed its arms as the magic worked its away around the demon slug's molten body. Eventually freezing up, Rage was quieted.

Admiring his handiwork, he took his time to channel his frost magic, using the Fade to build up the power in his soul. Lifting his hands up, he called a pillar of ice to erupt from the ground, engulfing the demon entirely.

Its scream shook the pillar as it eventually silenced. Palming the air in front of him, Damien pushed the magical force around him, splintering the ice pillar into millions of pieces.

The battle over, Damien smiled. He had beat the Fade.

From behind him, Mouse clapped. "You did it. You actually did it!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Damien laughed. "I did, didn't I? It was horrifying easily."

Mouse didn't seem to hear him, instead began to step side to side, excitedly. "When you came, I hoped that maybe you might be able to… But I never thought any of you were worthy!"

His mood soured, Damien glared at Mouse. "The ones you betrayed. Who were they?" he asked.

To Damien's chagrin, Mouse had simply waved him away. "What? They were not as promising as you. It was a long time ago."

"I thought you didn't remember anyone before me."

His smile dimming. "I don't remember their names…" he said. "I don't even remember mine. It's the Fade, and the Templars killing me, like they tried with you."

Crossing his arms, Damien scowled. "So what is it that you think you can get from me?" he asked Mouse. The smile returned, but this one was more… sinister.

"You defeated a demon, you completed your test. With time, you will become a Master Enchanter with no equal!" Mouse relaxed from his typical, uptight and meek posture. His back straight and chin held high. Damien realised that Mouse was taller than him.

"And maybe there's hope for someone as… small and forgotten as me. If you want to help." His smile began more toothy.

"There may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in."

"Not my problem Mouse."

"No, no, no! It must be your choice! Quickly before the Templars kill you!" Mouse began to plea. "Can't you feel the sword at your neck? They believe all magic evil, the Fade evil. Once you are here, you become all they fear."

Damien nodded his head. "You're right about one thing," he said looking into Mouse's eyes. "I will be a Master Enchanter. And I'll do it without you."

Mouse's face fell, expression horrified. "Wha-"

But he refused to hear any more excuses. "Was there ever an actual 'Mouse'? Was he an apprentice that fell victim to your trap? Or was he fake as well?"

"Yes, of course! At least I think there was! That should be enough, for you!" Mouse dropped his head to the ground, before looking up with a smirk. "Maybe they are right about you." His voice baritone and deep.

Mouse was surrounded by a bright light. "Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade, are preconceptions, careless trust. Pride."

The demon began to grow until he was over 10 feet tall, his body turning grey and his arms morphing into wings. Damien stared into all of its eyes, seeing his horrified expression in their reflection. "Keep your wits about you, mage." It warned. "True tests never end."

And with a loud bang, Damien was awake once again.

* * *

After passing out again in the Harrowing chamber, Damien awoke in his bunk. Throwing a hand over his eyes and scratching the sleep away from it, he yawned loudly and cracked all the bones in his back. He felt like he had slept standing up.

A voice from above him spoke over his thoughts. Jowan. "Are you alright? Say something, please…" Jowan jumped from the bunk, and huddled next to him.

"Jowan?" he asked, his voice sounding like he gurgled rocks and dwarven ale.

The apprentice sighed, his face relaxing from the worry. "I'm glad you're all right. They carried you in this morning. I hadn't even realised you'd been gone all night."

Jowan was nice enough. He had been the first to befriend Damien once he had arrived at the Circle, an ordeal in itself. But as they grew older, everyone became aware of the vast difference in their skills, and soon, so did they.

The strain on their friendship was tested time again, as Damien improved with his magic, from becoming the top student in each of their classes to becoming Irving's star pupil. Jowan had begun to feel overshadowed by his friend, and Damien couldn't blame him. With his advanced study load, he couldn't spare the time for Jowan anymore. Time that would be further restricted now that he had passed his apprenticeship.

"I've heard about apprentices who never come back from Harrowings. Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?" Jowan asked excitedly.

Damien grimaced, recalling how terrified he had become as soon as 'Mouse' had shown his true form. "It was… harrowing." He said instead.

Jowan looked sceptical. "Is that why they won't tell us what it's about?" Shaking his head Jowan continued. "I know I'm not supposed to know… but we're friends. Just a little hint, and I'll stop asking, I promise!"

To be honest, Damien somewhat faulted the failing friendship on himself. Ever since he had begun to overshadow Jowan, the other boy had become incessantly needy. Always demanding Damien's attention away from his own studies to help him with his barely passable creation studies. Some days he was glad to pick Jowan out of a crowd. Other days he wished Jowan just stayed hidden.

Sighing to himself, he decided to throw the mabari a bone. "I had to enter the Fade." He said quietly, looking around for apprentices, or worse, Templars, that might overhear the conversation.

Not taking the hint, Jowan's face scrunched up. "Really?" he said, voice full volume. "That's it?"

"Keep your voice down!" he whisper-shouted. "I had to protect myself from demons."

To his credit, Jowan looked sheepish. "That… makes sense. They want to see if you can resist a demon and stop yourself from becoming an abomination."

Nodding, Damien sighed. "Pretty much."

Jowan only pouted. "And now you get to move into the nice mages quarters upstairs. I'm stuck here in the apprentice commons, and I don't know if they'll call me for my Harrowing."

He had to repress the eye roll. Classic Jowan, he deadpanned in his head. He only smiled, but it felt like a grimace, his head still aching. "Any day now, probably."

But his friend wouldn't take the comfort. "I've been here longer than you have… Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me."

Time to nip this in the bud. "You're just paranoid." Damien groaned, his patience wearing thin.

"No, I'm afraid of what will happen to me." He bemoaned. "You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility… or you die. That's what happens."

"You worry too much. It's annoying."

His eyes widening, Jowan stepped backwards, hands in front of him. "I shouldn't waste your time with this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."

Nodding and looking thoughtful. "I should go talk to him immediately." He said to Jowan, with a tight smile. Hoping to end this conversation quickly.

"You should go, we'll speak later." He said as he departed from the door.

"Can't wait." He sighed, sitting on his bunk again. Damien wondered if the headache would go, now that Jowan was.

He laughed to himself. If only should he be so lucky.

Going through the apprentice's quarters, Damien had received some applause and admiration from the apprentices, even some mages, who wished to congratulate him on his Harrowing.

At first, he tried not to smirk, but after the fourth mage to applaud him for the quickest Harrowing the tower had ever seen, he decided to throw caution to the wind and enjoy himself.

It's not everyday you set a Circle record.

While he ventured to Irving's study, he allowed himself to reminisce about his early memories of his studies. When he looked at the young apprentices, fresh to the tower, he was reminded of himself at that age. He was proud of how far he came from the scared fledgling to the powerful phoenix. Figuratively, of course.

He wasn't going to lie though, the way 'Mouse' had seemed to shapeshift so effortlessly unlocked a feeling of envy. One day, he promised to himself.

Once he reached the second level, he did his best to avoid the Tranquil in the stockroom. No matter what people, like Wynne, said about them, they always managed to creep him out. When he was younger, he found himself sometimes needlessly cruel to Owain. But with age he felt just a detachment to the former mages.

He would never understand why anyone would voluntarily submit themselves to that.

Creeping around until he reached the library, Damien found himself face-to-face with the Templar, Cullen.

Cullen eyed him. "Isn't it too early to be sneaking around the tower?" he asked.

For all his 'righteous' lustre, Damien didn't mind Cullen as much. Sure, he was annoying and preachy at times, but at least he tried to be fair to other mages. Some other Templars didn't extend the same curtesy. They were almost the same age, so the two young men fell into a somewhat easy camaraderie, despite the obvious mage vs Templar issue.

Grinning mischievously, Damien only shrugged. "Then how may we begin our torrent love affair, if I am as brazen as an ox in an Orlesian window shop?"

Narrowing his eyes and blushing profusely. "Mages with glib mouths? What will the Maker think of next?"

"A templar with no pants."

Laughing, Cullen swatted at him. "That's enough out of you. Just because you're no longer an apprentice, doesn't mean you can bother me from my post." He joked. His smile sobering. "Though I am relieved that you passed your Harrowing. I would not savour having to be the one to cut you down." He admitted.

Damien just nodded, smirk widening. "Was there really any doubt?"

Smiling back, Cullen shook his head. "Honestly, it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing I had ever seen. Granted I hadn't seen many…" he broke off. "But if you are the example mages could aspire to be, maybe the world wouldn't fear magic so."

Not knowing what to say to the compliment, Damien chose to respond with humour. "Careful Cullen, people are going to start thinking we _are_ sneaking about together."

"And we can't have that now, could we?"

"I'll see you later, Cullen. Try not to brutalise too many apprentices."

"Only if you stop the blood magic." He promised.

Laughing, Damien left the Templar to his post, and continued his journey to the First Enchanter's study.

In the open doorway, Damien spied Irving conversing with Greigor, as well as a man of Antivan, maybe Rivaini ethnicity. Damien was aware that eavesdropping was rude, but he wasn't really into the whole 'social convention' aspect of the tower.

"… many have already gone to Ostagar- Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort-"

Irving laughed, dry and loud. "Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greigor? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

He could hear the bristling of Greigor's skin, and Damien just had to smirk, almost delighting in his anger. "How dare you suggest-" he started, but the strange man with them interrupted again.

"Gentlemen, please." he had said, his attention on Damien. The young mage fidgeting uncomfortably. Damn. "Irving, someone is here to see you."

Biting the insides of his cheeks, Damien waved. "Hello."

Irving's beard rustled as he smiled. "Ah, well if it isn't our new brother in the circle, come child."

Hating being called a child, even after what he endured during the Harrowing, he stepped forward to meet Irving. The man with the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander met him as well. "This is…?" he questioned.

The older man chuckled and nodded, eyes still locked on his former pupil. "Yes, this is he." He confirmed.

Giving a loud sigh, the Knight-Commander took his leave. "Well, Irving, you're obviously busy. We _will_ discuss this later."

Alone with both the First Enchanter and the man clad in silverite armour, Damien felt unease.

"Of course," Irving waved Greigor off, paying him no mind once he had left. "Well then… where was I? Oh, yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."

Surprise on his face, he grinned. "A Grey Warden? In the tower?" he asked excitedly.

Duncan however only laughed. "There are more Grey Warden recruits, staying over at the inn across the lake. Due to recent events, it was decided that I come alone to the tower."

"You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."

Grinning, Damien directed his attention to Duncan. "I would like to defend Ferelden."

Arching an eyebrow, Duncan smiled somewhat. "With the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get, especially from the Circle."

"What do you mean?"

"The power you, mages wield is a valuable asset to any army, we could use it to defeat the darkspawn incursion, before it reaches too far north. I fear if we don't drive them back, it will not be long before Ferelden falls."

Sighing, Irving took control of the conversation. "Duncan, you worry the poor lad with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy occasion."

"We live in troubled times, my friend."

That didn't convince Irving. "We should seize moments of levity, _especially_ in troubled times." Gripping Damien's shoulder he smiled at the young man who towered over him. "The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi." He congratulated.

Feeling his face pull into a sneer at the word, 'phylactery', Damien tried to smooth over his face. "My leash, you mean." He said, not really a question.

Remembering this conversation multiple times during Damien's apprenticeship, Irving merely sighed. "Now, child, it's not that bad."

The confused look Duncan shot Irving, almost brought a laugh out of Damien. "I'm sorry- what is this phylactery?" he asked.

Irving shot a look at Damien before turning to address Duncan. "Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials."

Not giving Duncan a chance to piece the information together, Damien jumped in. "So we can be hunted if we turn Apostate." He said, tone bitter.

Duncan nodded his head in understanding. 'You don't.' Damien thought. 'You really don't.'

Irving crossed the floor and to his desk, standing over it while he arranged some papers. "We have few choices. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove that we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly." Grabbing a small item from his desk and a staff from against a wall, he came back and placed it within Damien's hands.

Looking at them, Damien was slightly unimpressed, the ring was a simple, silver with the insignia of the circle carved into the top and the staff no more than a blackened branch. "You have done well, Damien. I present you with my Ring of the Circle and this staff." He said proudly. "I, myself, received this ring from my mentor once I had passed my Harrowing. Now I gift it to you."

Looking up at Irving in shock, Damien had no words. "I- I don't know what to say!" he said.

The First Enchanter only shook his head. "Do not say anything. Wear them proudly, for you have earned it."

Standing straight, and looking at his mentor, Damien smiled. "Thank you, First Enchanter. For everything."

"And it goes without saying that you will not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the ritual?" he said. Damien grinned, but said nothing. Irving sighed. "Now then… take your time to rest, study in the library. The day is yours."

Laughing, Damien turned to go. "I will do that."

Duncan nodded as well. "I will return to my quarters." He said.

Looking at Damien, Irving nodded at Duncan. "Would you be so kind to escort Duncan to his room, child?" It was phrased as a question, but he was sure that Irving wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"Of course, First Enchanter. Follow me, if you'd please, Duncan."

Duncan had surprisingly made for decent company. The way to the guest quarters, wasn't long, but Duncan made for riveting conversation. About darkspawn, if nothing else. And the Grey Wardens. He'd seemed slightly obsessed with both topics, but Damien guessed the one couldn't exist without the other.

It was a worthy goal, one he'd be pleased to serve as well. Not that Greigor would allow a recently Harrowed mage to leave the tower to fight in the war, but stranger things have happened. Like flying monkeys attacking children for their shoes, perhaps.

When Damien finally deposited Duncan at his room, he was stopped before he could make an exit. "A moment, before you leave." He had said.

"Yes, Grey Warden?" he asked.

"Just Duncan will be fine. If you might indulge me, I would like to ask you about the Circle."

Nodding slowly. "I do not know what I can tell you that Irving couldn't. But I will answer to the best of my ability."

He looked thoughtful. "Mages like yourself must have opinions on current affairs such as the war. As you know, the king is gathering an army."

Thinking carefully of his words, Damien didn't want to make assumptions. "From what I know…" Damien began. "The Circle had only sent seven mages to assist in the war. All senior Enchanters, but to properly utilise the Circle, I believe that more mages could be very useful."

"You don't fear using the power at your disposal, do you? It is dangerous, yes, but necessary."

Damien gave a short bark. "Only to those not powerful enough to control it."

That earned a laugh from the stoic Grey Warden. "Irving has taught you well I see."

Shaking his head, Damien looked over the Grey Warden's shoulder, looking blankly at the wall. "Not just Irving. I've spent 15 long years in the tower, my earliest memories are of this tower. I've learned not only magic, but military strategy, history, languages, even basic architecture." Looking back at Duncan, Damien made his message clear. "It pains me, that even with so much knowledge at my beck and call, this tower is the only life I'll ever know."

"Indeed," Duncan had said. "Well, I'm sure you've better things to do than chat with an old man. Good day, Damien. We shall meet again."

Feeling thoroughly brushed off, Damien frowned. Taking that as his leave, he turned on his heel and walked to the door. He hoped that the rest of the day would be uneventful.

It almost seemed too much to ask for a single quiet moment, for as soon as he left Duncan, he was set upon by Jowan.

"I'm glad I caught up with you. Are you done talking with Irving?" he asked. Damien noticed the way Jowan eyed the ring on his finger and staff on his back.

Rolling his eyes, Damien was already drained. "Hello again, Jowan." He muttered.

Shaking his head, Jowan grabbed Damien's arm and pulled. "I need to talk to you. Do you remember what we discussed this morning?" he whispered, as he stopped before each open door, and peered through it, before walking again.

Eyebrows raised, Damien decided he didn't like Jowan's new incognito mode. "Why are you whispering? It looks very suspicious." He whispered back.

Jowan shushed him, continuing on before turning into the chapel. "I just want to make sure we're not overheard."

Breaking free of Jowan's grip, Damien crossed his arms. "Don't man-handle me, Jowan. What are you doing." He hissed, thoroughly annoyed now.

He sighed and ran a hair through his tousled black hair. Jowan looked stressed, he noticed. From the looks of him, he hadn't been sleeping, and by the way his robes hung limply from his body, Damien assumed he hadn't eaten either.

A jolt of guilt shot through Damien. He was so focused on his study and eventual Harrowing, that he hadn't been paying much attention to him.

"I… I've been troubled. Please, just hear me out." He begged.

Sighing loudly and looking up to the ceiling, Damien took a moment to think. Shaking his head, he looked back to Jowan. "Fine. Let's hear it." He said. Cringing on the inside, Damien just hoped he wouldn't regret it.

* * *

Before Damien knew it, everything had spiralled out of control. From then on, he had been running across the tower, clearing the tunnels of spiders for Senior Enchanter Leorah in exchange for a Rod of Fire from the stockroom, to burn a door down for Jowan and his new squeeze, Lily.

How did he go from record-holding mage to conspiratorial smuggler in under an hour?

Being the driving force in the basement, Jowan and Lily left most of the fighting to him, as the suits of armour that guarded the vault came to life to attack them.

"Oh no, please." He shouted as he barely dodged a swipe from the very alive piece of metal's giant sword. "Don't help on my account."

Jowan pouted, as Damien used a shock spell to explode the suit's chest open, freeing the spirit that inhabited it. "But you're so much stronger than me!" he whined.

Lily to keep the peace, had smiled. "We appreciate the help, Damien. We truly do."

Glaring at the sister, he brushed past Jowan. "Then promise me your first-born." He had said. Grinning once he exited their line of sight.

From behind him, Lily stuttered, with Jowan trying to comfort her. "He's only joking! I think…"

* * *

Fighting more of the sentinels within the vaults of the tower, Damien was expecting a final powerful defence, and was almost disappointed in having to face a bulkier version of the things he had blasted through with ease. The chilled room in which the final battle was pitched drew cold air into his robes. By the Maker, Damien hated the cold. "There!" Damien pointed to the alcove above them. "It must be one of them!"

Lily and Jowan raced up the stairs behind him, Jowan pushing him aside to reach the shelves full of phylacteries.

"I found it!" he cried, as he picked up the vial. He spun around and held it in the air, entranced. "I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me… and freedom!"

"Jowan…" Damien asked cautiously, approaching from behind it.

"So fragile, so easy to just be rid of it. To end its hold over me" With a small movement of a finger, the vial fell and shattered on the ground, the contents soaking the rug underfoot. "… I am free."

"That's all well and good, but maybe it's time to leave. Unless you both plan on making your new lives within the vaults of the tower?"

Lily shuddered. "I will be glad to leave this place, forever. Let's go now, Jowan. Our future awaits us."

Upon leaving the basement, Damien, Jowan and Lily were immediately set upon my multiple Templars. He could see Greigor approach, fire in his eyes and the usual scowl across his face. Irving not too far behind him. Damien averted his eyes from the First Enchanter, hot shame welling in his neck.

"So what you said was true, Irving." Greigor had said, regarding the group.

Damien sighed. "I knew this would end badly." He muttered to himself.

"Greigor!" Lily tried to plea.

Greigor refused to hear it however. "An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I'm disappointed, Lily." He studied her, before turning his head over his shoulder to talk to Irving. "She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then?"

Sighing, Greigor fell back to stand with the First Enchanter. "You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished."

His fury fell onto Damien next. "And this one, newly a mage and already flouting the rules of the Circle. Can't say I didn't see this coming."

Irving shook his head, and Damien couldn't meet his eye. "I'm disappointed in you. You could have told me what you knew of this plan, and you didn't."

Damien opened his mouth to speak. "I-"

"You don't care for the mages!" Jowan accused, interrupting him. "You just bow to the Chantry's every whim!"

"Jowan! Shut up!" Damien shouted.

"Enough!" Greigor demanded. "As Knight-Commander of the Templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death. And this initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar."

Backing away from Jowan and Lily, Damien dreaded his own punishment. To have thrown his life away, and for what? For Jowan?

In the distance, he could hear Lily shout, he paid her no mind, however.

It wasn't until Jowan started that he looked up in time to see Jowan produce a knife.

"No! I won't let you touch her!" he shouted as he brought the knife clean through his hand. A spiral of blood surrounded him, as he sent it as a wave through the Templars and First Enchanter.

Shock and surprise spurred Damien into action. "Irving!" he shouted, running towards his mentor's side. Scowling he glared at Jowan, hoping Jowan could read the anger and fury that was on his face.

He flinched at Damien's rage but was undeterred as he raced to Lily's side. "My love!" he cried, checking her over for wounds.

"By the Maker… blood magic! H-how could you? You said you never-"

"I admit, I… I dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!"

"Blood magic is evil, Jowan! It corrupts people… changes them."

Jowan fell to his knees, begging and throwing his mercy at Lily's feet. From below him, Damien felt Irving stir. "I'm going to give it up. All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. Please come with me…"

Lily shook her head and backed away, Jowan unable to support himself on her dress fell to the floor, now on his hands and knees. "I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you… I don't know who you are blood mage! Stay away from me!"

Jowan launched himself to his feet and ran. Damien watched the coward run, throwing glances back at Lily until he had rounded a corner and simply left.

It took several minutes, but soon all Templars were on their feet. Damien used himself as a crutch for Irving, trying to meet his eye.

"I am so sorry, Irving! I didn't know!"

Irving didn't look at him. "… You should have done better."

It wasn't long before Greigor started shouting again. "I knew it… blood magic. But to overcome so many… I never thought him capable of such power…"

Damien's laugh was mirthless. "Apparently he's capable of many things."

Irving only shook his head. "None of us expected this! Are you all right, Greigor?"

"We have a blood mage running around and a newly Harrowed mage who ensured we'd never be able to find him! You tell me if that's 'all right!'" Greigor shook with anger. "If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened!"

The First Enchanter looked into the background. "Where is the girl?" he grumbled, eventually standing on his own.

From the corner of the basement, said girl was still cowering. "I-I'm over here, ser…"

Greigor rounded on her immediately. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he demanded. "You helped a blood mage! Look at all he's hurt!"

Damien stepped between them. "She didn't know he was a blood mage!"

Greigor snarled. "If you do not step down, I will slay you where you stand, mage!"

Meeting Greigor's eye, Damien refused to back down. Lily put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him to the side.

"You've been a friend, but you needn't defend me any longer." She claimed. "Knight-Commander… I was wrong. I was accomplice to a… a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit. Even… even Aeonar."

"Get her out of my sight!" he barked. Immediately, two Templars grabbed underneath her armpits and dragged her away. Damien couldn't bring himself to watch.

"And you. You know why the vaults exists. Some artifacts belong there for a reason. The fact that you accompanied them into the vaults is a crime punishable by solitary confinement. What if the blood mage scavenged some of the artifacts!"

"Greigor," Irving began, but Greigor's rage couldn't be contained.

"Your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah… what are we to do with you?"

"Jowan's the one you want! Not me!" Damien shouted, his voice hard.

"You helped a blood mage escape. All our prevent measures for naught! Because of you!"

Duncan chose this time to intervene, making his way to Greigor and Irving. "Knight-Commander, if I may… I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens."

Damien looked to Duncan in shock. The Grey Warden caught his look and shot him a small wink. Smiling to himself, he watched as Greigor's face turned completely red, as the vein on his forehead bulged.

"Irving has spoken highly of this mage." He had continued. "And I for one, would like him to join the Wardens ranks."

Irving shook his head sadly. "Duncan, this mage has assisted a maleficar, and shown a blatant disregard for the Circle's rules." His words hitting Damien in the gut, he looked down again.

"He is a danger. To all of us!"

Listening to their words, Duncan only nodded. "I understand what has transpired here, but it is a rare person who risks it all for a friend in need."

Knowing that it would not help his case in the slightest, he didn't scoff. Jowan deserved no title, after what had happened.

"I stand by my decision. I will recruit this mage."

"No! I refuse to let this go unpunished!"

Not willing to face Irving or Greigor, Damien settled to stare at Duncan. "If the Grey Wardens will have me, I will gladly go." He said.

"Greigor, mages are needed. This mage is needed." Duncan urged. "Worse things plague this land then blood mages. You know that. I take this young mage under my wing and bare all responsibility for his actions."

"A blood mage escapes, and his accomplice is not only unpunished, but rewarded by becoming a Grey Warden! Are our rules nothing?! Have we lost all authority over our mages! This does not bode well, Irving."

Taking a deep breath, Irving closed his eyes. "Enough," he finally said. "We have no more say in this matter."

Damien chuckled. "What lies in store for me?"

Duncan slapped Damien's back. "Now we make for Ostagar, to the king's camp. Where you and the other recruits will be initiated. I will explain more when the time comes."

Looking at Irving, Damien pulled the ring from his finger. "Thank you for everything, First Enchanter." He had said, holding out his ring to Irving.

Irving merely reached out and closed Damien's hand around it. "Keep it." He gruffed. "I know you will use it well, in service of the Grey Wardens."

Smiling and with nothing left to say, he followed Duncan out through the tower. After 15 long years, he would finally see the outside world for himself.

Smiling despite himself, he waited as the Templars pulled the massive iron doors open. Stepping outside in the night, Damien realised it was raining.

Thoroughly soaked to the bone just a few short metres from the tower doors, Damien's smile turned into a deep frown. Perfect.

* * *

 **And here we are the mage extraordinaire, Damien, named after the antichrist himself.**

 **As if you couldn't tell, but I really hate Jowan. Not only his voice and the way he looks but the way he just whines about himself and the way it's never resolved that Jowan just fucks up your life with a metal staff and is just so 'well I did kick you out of the circle after I lied to you, just so I can get my bone on with some girl. But I was just jealous of you, so really it's your fault! waaaaah!' He just infuriates me. So for those who find redeeming qualities in Jowan, please, private message them to me. So I can laugh at you and mock you incessantly to my dog, for having absolutely no taste in men.**

 **Part 4 should be up soon, just FYI.**


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